Press Button, Receive Crack
by Kirmon64
Summary: A series of mostly unrelated oneshots, all created from prompts received from the Random Pairing Generator. ::Movieverse & TFA::
1. Like North and South

**Edit July 2011:** I no longer know the link to the Random Pairing Generator. For all I know it's vanished from the interwebs. If anyone wants the html file itself, though, I do have a copy. Just PM/email me if you'd like it.

* * *

Yey for the Random Pairing Generator! For anyone who hasn't tried it, I seriously recommend it, even if it's just for laughs. There's a link to it in my profile if ya do wanna try it out :D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of this - Hasbro/Takara/Michael Bay/whoever does. The Generator doesn't belong to me either; it was created by Glowstick Chick, and modified by Aaron Bono and Nri.  
**Rated (T) For:** Bot/sparksex, however I don't think it's graphic enough to warrant an M rating.  
**Prompt:** Frenzy/Xbot360/argument

* * *

Barricade doesn't bother to try to understand either of his partners. They argue over the strangest things and are constantly playing pranks on each other, and on occasion, him. They've nearly scrapped each other more times than he cares to remember. And yet, each and every time they make up and become friends.

It's puzzling, to say the least.

Frenzy, strangely enough, is usually the voice of reason between the two of them. He's always there to pull his friend out of trouble and watches over the younger bot like an Earth hawk; more than once he's gotten himself hurt to save his friend. He's the thinker of the two; not much of a fighter, but he can outsmart most everyone.

Xbot360 is a fighter, despite his small size. And he's good at it too, both physically and on the Net. He can sight, lock on to, and hit things the size of a fly from incredible distances, something Barricade has only ever seen that Autobot sniper Bluestreak do. He has a fearsome temper; sometimes even Barricade fears for his safety when the small bot is angry. The only thing that can ever calm him down is Frenzy and on occasion even he can't do anything.

They are almost complete opposites, and yet Barricade has never seen two bots that are closer friends.

The two took to each other almost immediately when they met. Barricade had been searching the ruins of Mission City for any trace of the Allspark when he had stumbled upon the little bot. Frenzy, half-dead though he had been at the time, had refused to leave the young Decepticon behind and so Barricade had reluctantly allowed Frenzy to try to fix his new friend.

And now, thanks to Frenzy's stubbornness, he has two partners that are pains in the aft.

Both of them have been missing for nearly an hour now, and Barricade is worried. They usually return from their escapades within half an hour. He can't help but think that the worst has happened: that they have been killed, or perhaps caught by the Autobots.

He is relieved when he finally picks up both of their homing signals. They may or may not be prisoners of the Autobots, but at least he knows they are still alive. Barricade searches in his Mustang form so as not to attract any unwanted attention and eventually he traces their signals to an abandoned human structure on the outskirts of a small city. Cautiously, he transforms and looks in a few windows before he spots them on the upper floor.

Frenzy is pinned to the floor by Xbot and for a moment Barricade is worried that Xbot's temper has gotten the better of him again. But that theory quickly leaves his processor when he realizes that Frenzy has his arms and legs wrapped around the smaller bot on top of him... and he's _moaning_, quietly, but Barricade can hear it nonetheless.

Suddenly he realizes just why the two of them always returned with scratches or grass stains on their armor... even occasionally with damaged limbs.

Barricade shakes his head in amusement and carefully sits down and leans against the old structure. He has a feeling he'll be waiting for some time and makes himself comfortable. For nearly half an hour Frenzy and Xbot's cries grow in volume and frequency above his head until they both call each other's name in near unison and then lapse into silence. Smirking slightly, Barricade waits for a few minutes before he rises to his feet and looks in the window again. They are still wrapped around each other in virtually the same position, except for the fact that it is now Frenzy on top.

Xbot is the one to spot Barricade looking in the window and he nudges his mate and mutters something in his audio receptors, too quietly for Barricade to make out. Frenzy raises his head from its position on Xbot's chest and grins sheepishly at the large bot. Both of them try to get to their feet but they are both weak after bonding and neither of them gets very far.

Barricade shakes his head again and reaches in the broken window to pluck them from the room. They both mutter their thanks as he deposits them in his chest compartment and though Barricade can't see it, they both grin tiredly when he tells them that he doesn't care if they're mates... he just doesn't want them trying to interface inside of him. They fall into stasis almost immediately after Barricade transforms back into the Mustang, curled around each other.

They may disagree on practically everything and they may be total opposites... but somehow, Barricade knows that they will be bonded for many, many years to come.


	2. Defiant, or rather its opposite

Thanks to Xobit and Loki for their help on this one.

**Rated (T) For:** It's clean. With the exception of Epps' not-so-clean language :p  
**Prompt:** Maggie/Scorponok/defiant

**

* * *

**

Maggie is nearing the end of her normally almost infinite patience.

She has been out here in the desert for several days now and she is tired, grumpy, and is thoroughly fed up with this whole 'we HAVE to find Scorponok' fiasco. _'Why is he so important, anyways?'_ she wonders with a sigh. From what she's gathered, he is one of the lower-ranking 'Cons and one of the weakest. But then she remembers the snatches of conversation she heard a few hours earlier; the reports of mutilated humans and livestock, the strange tracks in the desert going to and from villages...

And then without warning, there are several surprised shouts from the soldiers around her. Something hits her on the side of the head and her vision darkens...

* * *

When Maggie comes to, she finds herself laying face up on the hot desert sand. Her memories are fuzzy at best and she's not completely sure how she got here. After squinting up at the sun for several moments, she realizes that the little convoy was attacked... but by what? All she can recall is several moments of confusion and then blackness.

Suddenly a shadow blots out her vision and Maggie blinks and then sits up. Scorponok is looming over her, head tilted in curiosity. Seeing that she's awake, the mechanical scorpion's expression instantly turns into one of scorn.

"Took you long enough to wake up, fleshwad," he growls threateningly, snapping his fearsome digging claws. "I want to hear you _scream_ as I dismember you-"

And suddenly, just like that, Maggie's temper snaps.

"Oh, shut _up_!" she snarls, rising to her feet. Scorponok backs up a few steps, clicking uncertainly. "Listen, I am hungry, and hot, and I have sand absolutely EVERYWHERE. I am TIRED of tramping around in this Godforsaken desert looking for YOU so that Ratchet can put you in stasis or some shit like that!" she stoops down, picks up a rock, and flings it at the Decepticon. The stone merely bounces off his armor with a dull clunk, but Scorponok doesn't retaliate. Instead he opts to cower away from the enraged human, tailstump between his legs.

"So YOU are going to tell me where the convoy is, and YOU are going to bring me there. AND THEN you are GOING to come QUIETLY so I can get back home and RELAX. GOT IT?!"

Meekly, Scorponok chitters his agreement and uncertainly raises a claw to point in the direction that his scanners are telling him the convoy is. Maggie storms off in the aforementioned direction and as the cowed Decepticon carefully follows her, he can almost imagine the storm clouds forming above her head.

But then again... he kind of likes that in a person...

* * *

Lately, William Lennox has become accustomed to exceedingly strange incidents. Living in close contact with giant alien robots from outer space will do that to a person.

But even almost two months of that couldn't have prepared him for this strange sight.

Maggie Madsen is storming towards the convoy, completely unharmed but extremely angry judging by her expression and clenched fists. And following meekly behind her is the Decepticon they've been searching for.

While Lennox simply gapes at the impossible scene, Epps is slightly more vocal.

"What the _fuck_?"

"You better have the cage for him ready," Maggie snarls at them, pointing behind her at the cowering Scorponok. "Because I am _tired_ of sleeping in cars." And with that, she stomps past the bewildered men and plops down into the backseat of the nearest jeep with a growl.

Epps turns back to Scorponok, eyes wide. "The hell did you _do_?"

The Decepticon rolls the joints that attach his claws to his body in an approximation of a shrug and quietly follows the soldiers to his cage, stealing backwards glances at Maggie along the way.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned..." Lennox mutters absentmindedly, keeping a careful eye on the scorpion-mech as he steps into his cage.

To his surprise, Scorponok begins to nod furiously and tilts his head curiously at the openly glaring woman. And though all the others present would later deny it, Lennox swears that the Decepticon actually _smiled happily_ at her...


	3. Addiction

This, interestingly enough, is not the only fic with this pairing on ffdotnet; The Laughing Platypus has written one called "Love Child" whose main pairing is this one. And it's so much better than this. But anyway. Enjoy.

**Rated (T) For:** very mild botsex, and that's it.  
**Prompt:** Ratchet/Barricade/addiction

**

* * *

**

Ratchet knows all about the human thing called addiction. He has all the symptoms... and no cure. He probably never will have a cure. But thankfully, his addiction hasn't hurt anyone but himself.

Yet.

Ratchet brushes his musings to the back of his mind. He knows he shouldn't be doing this. He's fraternizing with the enemy... and almost _enjoying_ it. His hand comes in contact with something not-rusted and he shifts some pieces of metal out of the way to reveal a black and white limb covered with dents and scuff marks.

Barricade.

It only takes Ratchet a few minutes to pull the badly-damaged mech from the junk. The Decepticon has been thoroughly mangled; one of his legs is twisted unnaturally and he's missing half of one arm, not to mention there's a huge dent dangerously close to his Spark chamber. But he's still mostly intact. Ratchet isn't sure whether he wants to sigh in relief or scream in frustration, so he settles for beginning to repair the mech in from of him.

Ratchet loses himself in his work, desperately trying to keep his mind blank. He doesn't notice his patient's optics come to life, following his every movement. Barricade understands why the Autobot is repairing him, why he has such a pained expression on his face. He hates that it's an Autobot tending to his injuries... but at the same times he's glad.

On impulse, he reaches out with his intact hand and grasps Ratchet's leg. The medic's head shoots up with a small gasp and blue optics meet red. They stare at each other for a long while, unable to tear their optics from the other's. It is Barricade that makes the next move. He slides his hand along Ratchet's leg and body until he reaches the larger bot's arm, eliciting shudders from him. And then he yanks on Ratchet's arm with what strength he has. Ratchet offers no resistance and within moments their foreheards are pressed together, their optics are shuttered, and their hands are roaming all over each other's bodies.

Neither of them even consider opening their Spark chambers; the thought has never crossed their minds. There is no love between them. There never has been, and there never will be. Their mutual overload come quickly regardless of that fact; as much as they are enjoying themselves, both Autobot and Decepticon want nothing more than to get far, far away from each other.

Most bots would barely be able to move after an overload, but Ratchet forces himself to his feet and continues his repairs, purposefully keeping his optics away from Barricade's. The Decepticon is glad; by now he knows that seeing optic to optic is almost always what sets them off.

He's had almost ten thousand years to figure it out, after all.

Ratchet works quickly and efficiently and only fixes the worst of the damage. Barricade's self-repair systems can do the rest. He's careful to leave the smaller bot's weapons unrepaired and barely touches his communications net. By the time he's done, Barricade is no longer in danger of offlining permanently. However, his abilities are severely restricted; he can barely walk and can't use his mangled arm. He has no way to fight anything hostile, he lacks an Internet connection, and his hologenerators are practically scrap.

Despite all this, Barricade knows he's lucky. He can transform and scan other vehicles if need be. His sensor net is working almost perfectly. And he knows that the Autobots won't find out for some time that he survived the Mission City battle.

Except for Ratchet. But Ratchet would never tell them about Barricade's continued existence. Just like Barricade has saved Ratchet several times from his own comrades. He just can't help it - and he knows that Ratchet feels the same way.

Without a word, the Autobot transforms and speeds away. He'll be beating himself up over what he's done; Barricade's done it himself, many times. Carefully, the Decepticon folds back into the Mustang he's become accustomed to and sets off. He wishes that he wasn't so... dependant on the medic. It's a weakness, a terrible weakness, one that will be his undoing one day. But he can't really help it. It's a sort of... addiction. He's got all the symptoms... and no cure. He probably never will have a cure.

Yes, Barricade knows all about the human thing called addiction


	4. A Long Time Ago

Props to DarkAngelLilith for originally coming up with this paring... kinda sorta. Go read her fic _"The Romance No One Saw Coming",_ it's amazing.

**Prompt:** Jazz/Frenzy/a long time ago

* * *

A long time ago, things were different. Because Frenzy wasn't Frenzy, and Jazz wasn't dead.

He can recall those times only vaguely, and only in his more lucid moments. Sometimes it's a ghost of a touch that has him shivering in pleasure. Sometimes it's a fragmented memory, of times far more peaceful than now. And sometimes it's a whispered 'I love you.'

Once upon a time, way back when, there had been a young, boisterous Autobot by the name of Jazz. This mech was extraordinarily talented for his age, and when the civil war broke out, he was trained by another to be the best spy there could be. Now, originally Jazz's trainer had promised himself that he wouldn't let his feelings get in the way... but eventually he found himself falling for his young charge. To his surprise, the feelings were mutual, and thus began the best years of the trainer's life, despite the war. They didn't bond, and they didn't create any sparklings; but they planned to once the war had ended.

The problem was, the war didn't end. It only got worse.

Jazz and his lover had been forced to separate, as the younger mech's presence was needed in the front lines. His former trainer, however, remained behind at Floatila, as he was more or less a Neutral. That, and he was very good at placating younglings even when the femmes could not. Some said he was a telepath, and he neither confirmed nor denied these rumors.

Some said that as he was a telepath, he should have been able to see the sparkling and femme massacre in the minds of the Decepticons.

He defended those that he could with his very life, refusing to back down from mechs far stronger and larger than he. His actions allowed some femmes and their young charges to escape; not many, but some. He could not escape with them, however, and he almost lost his own life in the massacre.

Almost.

He was captured by the enemy; they had heard the rumors about his telepathic powers, and Megatron wanted to harness those powers for himself. It took almost a vorn for them to break his spirit, and by then he had gone almost completely insane and was no longer in possession of the powers they had wanted him for. But he was still useful thanks to his hacking skills, and he now had no qualms harming the innocent.

And thus, the mech called Soundwave died and in his place Frenzy was born.

Frenzy can barely remember his previous life. All he can remember is Jazz. And now that Jazz is dead... it's like his past has been erased. He's rarely lucid enough to care, but in those rare moments... he wishes things could have turned out differently. But the past is the past... and besides, it all happened so long ago that sometimes he wonders if it isn't just a product of his twisted mind.


	5. The Unwilling Partner

Inspired somewhat by Casus Fere's "Whim"... What can I say? Scorponok makes for some goood crack.

Also, 'Hide's swearing was typed by a pair of cats. No, really :D

**Prompt:** Ironhide/Scorponok/assumptions

* * *

It never even occurred to Scorponok that this big black mech wasn't Blackout.

It wasn't that he was stupid. For a symbiote - a 'pet', in human terms - he was actually rather intelligent. But never, NEVER in all his vorns of life had he ever seen a mech quite so big and tough and strong and practically invincible as Blackout. There were some structural differences between this mech and his beloved master, of course, but their basic frame was, for all intents and purposes, identical. One could assume that Blackout had simply taken a different alt mode for one reason or another. And thus, even though 'Blackout' was in rather close proximity to the Autobots' new base, Scorponok thought nothing of it and latched onto his 'partner's' back with a delighted chirr.

He was mildly surprised when 'Blackout' began to twist and turn wildly in an attempt to get him off his back, but in the end he just chalked it up to some sort of new game. So, therefore, he figured that it was his objective to stay in place for as long as he possibly could.

And like the majority of Blackout's games (ie, training)... it was fun!

* * *

Ratchet was having a nice, relaxing afternoon.

Ironhide had been sulking outside the base for a good half hour thanks to his dressing-down from Prime after brandishing his beloved cannons one too many times at the locals. So, since both Bumblebee and Prime were out and about, and Ironhide was being quiet for once, things had been very quiet for the medic.

Well, until said weapons specialist had started swearing at the top of his vocal capacitor, anyways.

Ratchet sprinted out of the base at full speed, weapons loaded and ready to kick some aft, be it Decepticons, rogue Sector Seven agents, or otherwise... but the sight that greeted his optics made him stop dead in his tracks and have a major WTF moment.

Ironhide was rolling around on the ground like a madbot and trying to claw something off his back frantically, all the while swearing in at least twenty different languages. And making some up, it seemed; Ratchet was quite certain that 'flahfonalfnapflkan!' and 'elmdnzøjasæjv' weren't even _words_ in any language.

"Ratchet, don't just stand there!" he screeched, catching sight of the medic, "Get this slagger OFF ME!"

Still unsure of what exactly had attached itself to Ironhide's back, the medic gingerly stepped forwards and ran a quick scan. This, of course, revealed exactly who and what had reappeared.

"Hold still!"

Ironhide reluctantly stopped moving, growling quietly in irritation. Scorponok made a sort of confused chirp, sticking his face in front of Ironhide's; was there some reason his 'partner' had stopped playing the game?

Ratchet approached cautiously, not wanting the small bot to panic and damage Ironhide's optics. Scorponok caught sight of the medic, however, and instantly went into battle-ready mode. He waved the stump of his tail threateningly, gripping Ironhide's head protectively and hissing angrily at the approaching medic.

After studying the scene for several moments, said medic began to snicker.

"What's so funny about me having a fragging Decepticon sitting on my head! Get it OFF!" the black mech snarled, clearly at the end of his fuse.

"I think he likes you," Ratchet replied, "He seems to have mistaken you for his former partner."

"_WHAT_!"

The medic winced at the volume of the yell, but Scorponok seemed totally unaffected. In fact, it seemed to solidify his belief that this was indeed Blackout, because he promptly made a soft sort of purring sound and snuggled happily against Ironhide's neck.

Said mech, realizing that Scorponok was not going to let go anytime soon - and that he was basically the small bot's unwilling partner now - could do nothing but bury his face in his hands and let out a groan.

Primus, this was NOT going to be fun...


	6. Like North and South 2

What can I say? I really like this pairing... no matter how random/cracky it is :)

**Prompt:** Xbot360/Frenzy/hungry

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* * *

**

"I'm hungry, Cade." the small white bot whines. The sentiment is soon shared by his silvery mate, who folds his arms and pouts childishly.

Barricade growls at the two of them. "We just raided a gas station half an orn ago. You can't be hungry yet. And stop pouting, Frenzy; it's not going to get you anywhere."

In retaliation, Frenzy smacks Barricade's dashboard with a huff. "I-I-I can be hungry wh-wh-whenever I feel like it."

Xbot nods his agreement, mirroring Frenzy's annoyed posture. Barricade simply watches the two of them for several moments as he drives to nowhere in particular; by now he's used to their strange, childlike way of thinking and generally finds it amusing to watch.

"Come oooon, Cade..." Xbot finally says, adopting an expression of childlike hopefulness, "You said it yourself..." and he nods at his mate and Barricade realizes with some dismay that they have been communicating through their bond again.

Frenzy, meanwhile, is playing back a recording that was no doubt made just for an incident like this: "...I will admit, however, that it's almost... _fun_ to terrorize the fleshbags..." the recorded voice of Barricade says in dark amusement.

Both Frenzy and Xbot smirk at their large companion's radio, the place that they have always directed their comments to while he's in vehicle form. "So? Whaddya say?"

Barricade considers his options. He dislikes refusing either of his young partners; despite their mischievous and childlike ways, both are surprisingly undemanding and he sort of likes indulging them. But on the other hand, the Autobots are likely to be on high alert after that little stunt back in Laredo and Barricade is in no hurry to be involved with another altercation with Ironhide. His fender is still smarting thanks to that last scuffle. Still... they won't be expecting another gas and electricity raid, not so soon.

Wordlessly, Barricade turns off the highway and heads for the nearest town, grinning mentally at the whoop and high-five that Frenzy and Xbot exchange. He has to admit that they do have a point... it _is_ fun to scare the humans. And he _is_ a little, _tiny_ bit hungry...


	7. A Little Misunderstanding

Sorry for the late update, all. I've been trying to get a new chapter out every Friday at the least, but things have been a lil busy lately. Also - I've realized that I've been using certain characters WAY more than others... it just so happens that the majority of writable prompts I've gotten have them, ie, Xbot and friends.

**Prompt:** Jazz/Xbot360/mistake

**-x-X-x-**

Ratchet is never sure what to expect when he passes Jazz's quarters. Every single time the Solstice is doing something different; sometimes he's listening to music and laying quietly on his berth; sometimes he's listening to music and dancing like a madbot. Sometimes he's writing. Sometimes he's fiddling with some trinket or another. Sometimes he can't tell what exactly it is that Jazz is doing, and sometimes he _wishes_ that he didn't know what Jazz is doing.

Today seems to be one of the more lethargic days for the recently reanimated Solstice. He's half-sitting on his berth, optics shuttered and frame lax. Although - he seems to be tensing every couple moments, head and arms twitching spasmodically. An alarmed frown crosses the medic's faceplate and he steps closer to Jazz, very clearly worried - and is that _electricity _crackling over his armor? But before he steps into the small room, he notices something small and white sprawled across Jazz's chest, sparking and twitching in the exact same way.

A grin suddenly crosses the silver mech's faceplate, and the tiny Allspark-created bot lets out a gasp, twitching madly.

Ratchet stares for a moment before putting two and two together... and realizing that there's nothing wrong with either of them. In fact, he now knows that one of the least crucial repairs he made on Jazz - his interface ports - is holding up quite nicely judging by Jazz's expression.

Letting out a whoosh of air from his vents, Ratchet makes a mental note to call Jazz to his medbay later and give him a nice lecture on the dangers of interfacing with any bots - especially the Earthen ones - in his weakened state.

**-x-X-x-**

Sometime after Ratchet leaves, both Xbot and Jazz come out of their trance.

"Never pegged ya for a coward, Xbot..." the larger mech says with a smirk.

"You fraggin-!" Xbot starts, then hops up and down in a rage on Jazz's chestplate, babbling hotly in something similar to binary code.

"Cybertronian, dude. Cybertronian."

With a huff, Xbot folds his arms and glares up at Jazz with his unnervingly bright green optics. "You fragging _cheated_! We _agreed_ that we wouldn't use any codes or glitches, you two-bit excuse for an Atari!"

Quirking an optic ridge at his young friend's inventive swearing, Jazz calmly replies with, "Actually, man... you said, and I quote, 'Let's not use codes this time'. You never said anythin' about glitching."

"Ah, shove it up your aft and twist, you fragger..." Growling angrily, Xbot promptly gives his gaming partner the one fingered salute and scrambles off the berth and out of the room before Jazz can take offense.

Chuckling quietly at the temperamental Xbox, Jazz calls after him, "You'll be back... 'cause hey, it'd be a shame if ya had to give up your Halo 3 champion title to a mech who's only recently come back from the dead..."

"That's only 'cause you fragging _glitched_! _I'm_ the best Halo player in the world, you-" Xbot's furious and high-pitched voice leaves the Cybertronian language and lapses into unintelligible binary code... which only succeeds in making him sound even more childish.

Jazz openly laughs this time, linking his hands behind his head. "Yeah, whatever. Better go practice, buddy... 'cause I can hand you your aft on a silver platter even without glitchin'..."

Xbot shrieks in rage and storms off to sulk... but he'll be back. He lives for gaming, after all... and thus, Jazz settles into his berth with a satisfied grin on his faceplate.

**-x-X-x-**

_Two Hours Later..._

"So, Ratch-man... what's shakin'?" Jazz has no idea why Ratchet has called him down to the medbay almost an orn after first being discharged... but, he really has no choice but to humor the medic for now.

Ratchet simply shakes his head at the smaller silver bot. "Jazz, I can understand that you miss Prowl. But it probably isn't the best idea to get into random trysts with Xbot... who knows what Earth viruses he's picked up? Your antivirus programs are still repairing themselves!"

Jazz gapes at him, all bravado out the window. "I-what-no! That isn't-! We were just playing H-!"

"I'm a medic, Jazz." Ratchet interrupts flatly, folding his arms. "I can understand what you're feeling. But for the love of Primus, at least close the door to your quarters first!"

"But-Ratchet-I-!"

But Ratchet simply shoos the second-in-command out of his medbay, muttering darkly about bots who can't control their libidos. Jazz is left gaping at the now-shut doors, wondering just how he got into this predicament in the first place.


	8. Bitter

Looky here! This one _doesn't_ have the usual crew, isn't it amazing?!

**Prompt:** Bumblebee/Starscream/bitter

**

* * *

**

They were both bitter, in a way.

They were opposites in almost every regard. The most obvious was their faction; one was an Autobot, the other a Decepticon. But there were other things, too, that were different about them. The way their comrades saw them, and their personalities, for example. The younger was seemingly carefree and innocent, eager to make friends with anyone and everyone; he was a close friend to many. The elder, on the other hand, was far from innocent, or even seeming innocent. He was abrasive, sarcastic; a loner with no friends.

If there was anyone that was acquainted with both of them, they would have been able to know immediately that there was no way, barring a miracle, that the two could have ever feasibly made friends. Even before the war.

Miracles, however, have the oddest habit of cropping up in unexpected places.

They met on accident. It was pure, horrible, luck. They had both been part of their respective factions' attacking squads in a small skirmish on the edge of Neutral territory. And, unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it - they had both been badly injured and accidentally left behind. Or perhaps not-so-accidentally left behind on the Decepticon's part. Either way, that was how they first met.

The Autobot was far less injured than the Decepticon, and he had been trying to find his way back to his own side when he stumbled upon the ravaged frame of the Seeker. He was a kind-sparked bot; it was something he couldn't help. And thus, he could not bring himself to kill the defenseless Decepticon, despite all his needling, and he could not bring himself to abandon him to his fate, either. So he had stayed, and repaired what damage he could, and talked to his own worst enemy in order to keep him online.

He found himself telling things about himself to the Decepticon that he'd never told anyone else, and he didn't know why. It just felt - right, somehow. He told of his friends, his enemies, his hopes and dreams, his bitter rejection by the one bot he thought he was hopelessly in love with.

And to both of their surprise, the Seeker told him things back. About his life before the war, about his two wingmates and Megatron, about his bitter despair over the bondmate that he'd lost millennia ago to a tragic accident on a frigid ball of rock far from Cybertron.

So, in a way, they became friends. They both survived the skirmish that brought them together, of course, and for a time they kept their thoughts away from one another. But, almost a vorn later, they met again on the battlefield, and instead of fighting... they caught up with each other; told tales of their more recent escapades. Somehow, when it was over, they found they wanted to meet again; and so they did. For several vorns they met regularly in secret, telling each other more about their lives, their hopes, and their dreams.

Somehow, along the way, they fell in love.

And then everything changed.

The Allspark was launched into space by Optimus Prime in order to keep it out of Megatron's clutches... and Bumblebee had nearly died protecting its whereabouts. In a rage, Megatron had nearly permanently offlined the yellow mech. Would have offlined him, if not for the last-minute intervention of Starscream. He'd managed to distract his leader enough to save Bumblebee's life, but only barely.

There were no medics in the immediate vicinity, no Decepticon medics at least. For Starscream, saving Bumblebee's life took priority over allegiance to any faction; and so, he threw caution to the wind and brought the scout back to the Autobots, barely avoiding getting himself offlined in the process.

But Bumblebee survived, and that was what mattered.

They continued to meet, and while the loss of Bumblebee's vocal capacitor threw them both off for a little while, they quickly went back to their usual routine of talking about the things that really mattered. Their lives, their former loves... and their new one.

Now, they weren't bitter. Not anymore, not even with the loss of comrades, old loves and the Allspark. Because they could finally be together, and that was all that mattered.


	9. Monotony

...I think Bonecrusher hates me for being unable to write him correctly D: Oh well. We'll just say that he was a very different mech before the war began :D

**Rated (uh... T-plus?) For:** Not-all-that-graphic botseckz! WOOT!  
**Prompt:** Bonecrusher/Ratchet/monotony

* * *

"You look bored."

Ratchet looked up at his assistant. The tan-colored bot, though several vorns younger than he was, was almost twice his size and was a great deal more intimidating in appearance. In reply, the medic made a non-committal grunt. "Things have been... slow lately." he reluctantly admitted, eying the mech warily. "Don't tell me Wheeljack and Mixmaster've blown themselves up _again_-"

"No, no! Of course not!" the tan mech replied hastily - and grinned down at the seated medic. "Just thought I'd visit and, ah, _alleviate_ your boredom."

"I'm honored," the CMO replied sarcastically, scowling up at his student. "And just what do you plan to - mmph!"

Of course, he never really got to finish his sentence for one all-important reason: his mouth was covered quite thoroughly by a large hand. Bonecrusher leaned close to Ratchet's audios. "See, like you I'm a little bored. And the other Constructicons are all busy... and I _know_ Wheeljack's busy too, and thus..." several large fingers found their way underneath the armor on his side, prompting a muffled sound of alarm from Ratchet. "If you want me to stop..."

The medic froze, staring wide-opticed at his student.

"Go on... if you want me to just... stop doing this... and _this_..." he brushed a strong-yet-currently-delicate finger up against a sensitive circuit, eliciting a groan from the smaller mech, "...just say the word and... I'll leave like nothing ever happened."

Ratchet resisted the impulse to just lose himself in the wonderful sensations. "...What about your mates?" he managed to grind out, mentally wincing at the waveriness of his voice.

"Oh, they know what I'm doing..." Bonecrusher practically purred, wiggling his fingers slightly for emphasis, "...And I think they're enjoying it too. Of course, Mixmaster's a little disappointed that you're not Wheeljack, but I can't please everyone, hmm?"

"You - guh - what?" Ratchet asked intelligently. One couldn't blame him for being slightly distracted, however; Bonecrusher's digits had found their way to an opening in the smaller mech's armor that led almost directly to his Spark chamber...

"We're not as... mmm... monogamous as a lot of those that are bonded... goes with being part of a hexad, I think... and besides, _my_ pleasure is _their_ pleasure. It's a win-win situation, no?"

And though he currently lacked the means to vocalize his approval - what with Bonecrusher doing _wonderful_ things to his Spark chamber and all - Ratchet couldn't agree more.

* * *

Sometime later, Ratchet came back online, still in Bonecrusher's grasp. "That was entirely uncalled for," he growled, though there was no venom behind it. In fact, he sounded almost - playful.

The Constructicon smirked. "Well, I got rid of your boredom, didn't I?"

"...I suppose you did," the medic replied after several moments, fighting to hold back his smile.

Chuckling, Bonecrusher wiggled his digits under still-warm plating. "Mission accomplished, then."


	10. You Are My Sunshine

I think I've mangled the canon really badly with this one. But who cares. It's crack, no?. :D

**Prompt:** Blackout/Bumblebee/sunlight

* * *

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,  
You make me happy when skies are grey  
You'll never know, dear,  
How much I love you,  
So please don't take my sunshine away..._

* * *

They were so different, Blackout idly mused.

He was black as the night, as space, cold and unfeeling and sadistic and a Decepticon. He did not like, much less love, with the notable exception of Scorponok and of course Bumblebee.

Bumblebee was his opposite in every way. He was the brightest yellow; had always preferred taking a yellow altmode. He was open, trusting, a kind-sparked bot yet far from innocent. No one was innocent anymore, thanks to this Primus-damned war. Blackout did enjoy the thrill of the hunt, and the capture at the end of it, that was true - but this war - it had taken nearly everything he cared about and destroyed it. He didn't care about much, yes, but that simply made the losses all the more difficult to cope with.

Scorponok had almost offlined, too, thanks to the war... thanks to the humans. He'd almost bled out in the desert, alone and scared and unable to contact either of his Creators. He was the one of the last created by the Allspark before Optimus Prime had launched it into space - perhaps the very last, although Soundwave's youngest flier was thought to be younger.

The Autobots didn't know this, of course, with the obvious exception of Bumblebee. At least, they hadn't known it until Bumblebee had told them and a desperate search had been launched. And though Blackout was still a bit disgruntled that he was in the Autobots' debt for saving his sparkling, he was thankful, too. Because if he'd lost Scorponok-

Blackout suppressed a shudder, involuntarily spreading his rotor blades. The semi-recharging sparkling in his lap looked up at him and made a questioning clicky noise. The former Decepticon hastily ran a hand down Scorponok's back in order to get him to go back to sleep - he got precious little of it these days, after all...

A glint of sunlight off metal plates in the distance made the Pave Low look up from his contented sparkling. For a moment, Blackout tensed; but the slight tugging at his Spark made him relax within moments and he returned to gently rubbing Scorponok.

It didn't take long for Bumblebee to reach him.

The Autobot transitioned smoothly out of his Earthen form a short distance away from Blackout and Scorponok. It looked almost like liquid fire, the helicopter thought, with all those parts moving, shifting-

"You need to see a medic," Bumblebee said worriedly, tentatively reaching out for the mate he'd left behind so long ago...

Blackout laughed, though it was somewhat feeble. "We've been separated for vorns and that's all you can say?"

A somewhat relieved expression flitted over Bumblebee's features before being replaced by worry again. "You still need a medic..."

"I got shot up the aft and dumped into a body of sodium-enriched water, what the slag do you expect my condition to be?" Blackout growled irritably, though his optics were dancing with mirth.

"Blackout!" the Autobot hissed, gesturing to the now peacefully sleeping Scorponok. "No cussing around him, remember?"

"He's heard far worse, I'm sure," he replied mildly, "And probably seen and done worse, too. Now, are you going to stand there all day or are we going to get to know each other again?"

Bumblebee was silent for a moment, and then he gently sat down beside his much larger mate, carefully leaning up against him. "I... missed you. A lot. And Scorponok. I'm sorry I had to tell the others about us but-"

"It's fine," Blackout interrupted, looking down on Bumblebee and Scorponok with affectionate optics, "I... am glad you did. I don't think - I would have died in that abyss if either of you had been offlined." Carefully, the black mech reached out through the bond that had been suppressed for millions of years - suppressed but not destroyed - and he felt Bumblebee do the same and it was like -

Like warmth and love and _sunlight_ washing over his cold Spark and suddenly, Blackout knew that everything was going to be all right.


	11. The Dancer

If it isn't immediately obvious by the very first freakin' sentence, this one takes place way, waaaay before the war. Like... a REALLY long time before.

_(glomps all readers and gives brownies to reviewers before dying of happy)_

**Rated (T) For:** Non-explicit robot smut. W00T.  
**Prompt:** Megatron/Jazz/club

* * *

"...Sometimes I wonder how you ever manage to convince me to do these things, Orion..."

Orion Pax laughed, giving his much larger brother a friendly push. "You let me convince you, Megsie. Don't deny it-"

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" the silver mech growled, though it was somewhat playful.

"I think I lost count at... let's see, one thousand? But really, Megatron... this place is _amazing_."

"Oh?" the silver mech quirked an optic ridge down at Orion. "Amazing how?"

The mech grinned, dragging his somewhat-resisting brother along by one hand. "Well... let's just say that I never thought any bot could move certain ways until I discovered this place..."

Megatron slapped his free hand to his face, groaning. "...I thought our Creator told you to stop visiting those kind of places?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him, Megsie. Ah, here we are!"

"...'The Silver Shot?' What the slag...?" the larger mech muttered incredulously, casting his optics over the brightly glowing sign above the entrance to the establishment. Loud - _very_ loud - music blared from the speakers within, and Megatron was sure he caught glimpses of the lithe frames of several mechs and femmes dancing to the music... "Er - Orion - are you sure-"

"Yes! Now stop being such a petrorat. I know one of the mechs here personally, and let me tell you he's... well you'll see." Orion waved cheerily at his brother, already disappearing into the throng of dancing bots on the lower floor.

Letting a whuff of air out of his vents, Megatron decided that he might as well enjoy himself... and besides, some of the dancers were rather - attractive... His optics roved over the room, lingering on the frames of several of the bots who were very obviously the ones _paid_ to do what they were doing... and they were doing it well, too, especially that white mech over by the side...

"Yannow, he won't hack ya. Go on and talk ta him."

The semi-amused voice made Megatron look down to see a smaller red mech standing beside him, bobbing his head to the beat of the music.

"And you are...?"

"Name's Blaster, I'm the owner of this place... and really, man, Jazz's a nice guy... and I hear he goes for big fellas like yourself." with a wink, the small mech disappeared back into the crowd of bots and for a brief moment Megatron wondered just how it was that everyone smaller than him seemed to have that innate ability. His gaze traveled back up to the lithe white mech - and was it just him, or was the dancer _looking right at him_?

No, it _definitely_ wasn't just his imagination - and he gave a little start when Jazz, still moving in ways that _shouldn't be physically possible_, slowly beckoned to him with one finger, an innocently seductive grin on his face.

_'To the Pit with what Alpha Trion said,' _Megatron suddenly decided, weaving his way through the other mechs and femmes, _'This could be fun...'_

Jazz, for his part, smoothly transitioned off the upper dance floor just as another mech took his place. Even though he was no longer dancing for everyone to see, there was a - rhythm, a fluid sort of movement to each of his steps that Megatron had never seen before in any mech or femme... and besides that, it was rather - arousing?

The much smaller white mech sidled right up against the silver one, undaunted by the extreme size difference - Jazz only went up to the imposing mech's knee. He took hold of a bit of protruding leg armor since the arms were out of reach and practically dragged Megatron towards a much more secluded area in the back of the bar where he somehow managed to shove him down into a chair at an unoccupied table - not that the larger mech was resisting much, mind you...

"Wha-"

Jazz swiftly clambered up onto the silver mech's lap, putting a finger to his mouth and shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Megatron's mouth snapped shut with a click, optics focused on the lithe mech _right on his lap _and then Jazz started to do something with his hands and _oh Primus-_

His hands clenched into fists and unclenched just as rapidly and his head fell onto the back of the chair with a dull clunk. He had no idea of what it was that the little bot was doing - Primus, he wasn't even _touching his frame _- but at the same time it felt absolutely, _wonderfully_ good - yes, right there, don't stop don'tstopdon'tstop - ohPrimusPrimusyesyes_yes_ -

* * *

_Sometime Later..._

"Megatron?"

"Unh... Go'way..."

The voice didn't go away, however; it just got a bit louder and distinctly amused. "Oh Megsie..."

"I told you not to call me that..." he growled half-heartedly, slowly onlining his optics... only to see the highly-entertained visage of his younger brother filling his vision.

"Guess ya met Jazz, huh?"

_'Wait. What?'_ With a startled noise, Megatron jerked upright, forcing Orion to leap backwards lest their heads collide.

"Really, Megsie, it's easy to tell... you've got his marks all over ya." Grinning, the red-and-blue mech pointed out a series of oddly-deformed sections on his brother's armor - sections that seemed to have been pulled _outwards_ with strength and precision no bot should have been able to possess.

"How-?"

"Magnetic fields. It's quite the sensation, huh? I told ya you'd enjoy your time here, Megsie... go on, tell me I was wrong."

"...Fine, you were right," he ground out, glaring half-heartedly up at his brother, "And stop calling me that."

Still bickering, the two mechs made their way out of the now mostly-empty bar, passing a quietly-chuckling Blaster though neither of them paid much attention to him.

Sometime after they were gone, the red mech turned to his silver companion, smirking. "...Have fun, Jazz?"

The formerly white mech - now mostly silver, thanks to his added armor - grinned cheekily. "Pit yeah. He's got quite the endurance, that Megatron guy. Not ta mention he's got pretty deep pockets, too..."

"...I thought I told ya to stop hacking yer seductees' accounts and tipping yourself with their credits?"

"Yeah. I think I lost count at... let's see, one thousand? Don't worry, he'll be back... it's part of my charm. See ya t'morrow, Blaster." With a wink and a grin, he practically skipped out of the Silver Shot, leaving his amused employer to clean up.


	12. Inside

Missed last weekend's update thanks to visiting the relatives, bleh. But this one's over 2000 words to make up for it!

Oh, and belated Season's Greetings to everyone :D

**Prompt:** Starscream/Frenzy/inside

* * *

He didn't know why Starscream had rescued him and his siblings when he could have just as easily left them behind. Really, when it came down to it, the Seeker was a self-centered, annoying genius. Emphasis on self-centered. But - he'd left his own wingmates behind, the closest things he probably had to friends, and he'd rescued six almost-worthless younglings instead.

The explosion was sudden, and likely the result of Autobot sabotage. Mixmaster, while prone to creating explosions (whether they were on accident was questionable), had never created anything big enough to put the entire base in danger... and destabilize the reactors that powered it. The chain reaction had been swift and unstoppable; even Soundwave had been unable to halt it.

Soundwave...

Frenzy clenched his jaw shut tightly, determined not to break down inside Starscream's cockpit. He could mourn his Creator later, when he and his siblings were alone with their grief and pain. For now - for now, he could try to analyze the Seeker's motives. Calm, rational thought had always helped in times of grief.

Reason one: Starscream actually cared for them. That one nearly made Frenzy snicker out loud, it was so impossible.

Reason two: Frenzy and his siblings were the only ones small enough for Starscream to carry. It made sense; they were the smallest on the base and Seekers weren't known for their lifting capabilities. There was no way that any one Seeker, and likely even the entire trine together, could possibly lift a normal-sized mech and fly as well. And even if they could - there wasn't any way that they could have escaped the explosion of the reactors in time. Starscream himself had been shaken badly by it, and he was one of the fastest Cybertronians in the air.

Reason three: Starscream somehow knew of the important truth that Soundwave and his Creations had been hiding. The truth about Laserbeak's status as a femme, however young. She had been reformatted only a few joors before the Floatila Massacre and after that horrible orn Soundwave had hidden Laserbeak's status extremely well - and Frenzy couldn't blame him. He didn't want to lose two siblings - because if Laserbeak died, her twin and bondmate Buzzsaw would go too.

A muffled wimper from his youngest sibling brought Frenzy out of his thoughts. Ratbat was still practically a sparkling, having been the very last created by the Allspark; he'd rarely been seen by anyone except his family, so it had come as somewhat of a surprise when Soundwave had presented the little Aerial to Starscream and told him to save his sparkling. Ravage reached out with one hand and pulled the little mech close to his frame, revving reassuringly... or trying to, despite the fact that he was trembling badly. Frenzy glanced at his own shell-shocked twin and gently pulled Rumble to him, then settled down beside Ravage and Ratbat, snuggling as close to their sparks as he could. Laserbeak pulled Buzzsaw over as well, draping a protective wing over his limp frame.

Slowly, cautiously, the six opened their telepathic communications link, afraid of what might happen without Soundwave there to focus and control it. The result was instantaneous; the normally warm and welcoming sensation was instead disorienting and frighteningly... void. They all disconnected within moments of each other, Ratbat letting out a short but terrified wail.

Starscream jerked in surprise from the sudden loud noise within his cockpit, but to Frenzy's surprise didn't threaten Ratbat with bodily harm - he just kept flying. There was a long, pained silence broken only by the sound of the youngest's scared sniffling and the muffled whine of Starscream's engines.

_:Frenz I think he likes us...:_ Rumble suddenly transmitted over their bond.

Frenzy twitched slightly from the unexpectedness before replying. :_...Are you talking about Starscream?:_

Rumble nodded slightly in confirmation. :_Yeah. I know it sounds weird but - haven't you noticed that he always seemed to be staring at us before the...:_ the indigo-framed twin trailed off, looking down at his hands. :_And he never got you or me in trouble for all those stupid pranks we pulled...:_

Frenzy realized, suddenly, that Rumble was right. He'd never really thought of it before, but then again he hadn't really thought much about Starscream except to figure out how to avoid his wrath when midway through or done pulling a prank. The Seeker had never seemed to get angry with them, even when he was the subject of their pranks, even the more - questionable ones. In fact, he'd rarely even raised his voice with them and the few times he'd done so he had seemed to be merely keeping face with his wingmates or others. :_You're right. So...what do we do about it?:_

_:Nothing. Absolutely nothing:_ came the instantaneous reply, :_We see what he does…and then we figure things out from there.:_

* * *

For one reason or another – although both Frenzy and Rumble assumed that it was because he was attracted to them – all six of Soundwave's orphans ended up as Starscream's partners. They went virtually everywhere with him, and they were amongst the best infiltrators in the Decepticon forces. And, in time, the six began to, in a way, see Starscream as the Creator they'd lost. It was just little things, things that no one else would have been able to see for what they were – things like Ratbat willingly snuggling Starscream, like Laserbeak acting more femme-like, and like Ravage using his dry sarcasm to its fullest.

Until the day that they lost everything.

It was an ordinary mission, an easy one as a matter of fact. Ravage had even allowed Starscream to bring Ratbat along, as a sort of training mission. The little Aerial was ecstatic of course, and his enthusiasm was certainly rubbing off on the others. Buzzsaw was happier than any of them had seen him since their Creator had died. And it finally gave the bipedal twins the courage they needed to ask Starscream to be more than their surrogate Creator… for him to be their third bondmate. It was a big step, but somehow they were certain that he would accept with open arms.

They were spread out over the supply compound, each alone, with the exception of Ratbat and Ravage. Starscream was watching the skies for Autobots; and the others were sneaking their way in through various doors, windows, and air ducts. No one had expected there to be a full force of Autobots there already. Perhaps a dozen was the expected amount, it wasn't a very important supply base after all. But there was a full contingent of them, and Soundwave's Creations didn't stand a chance against the much larger bots.

It was Buzzsaw that was shot down first, and without him one of the last Decepticon femmes perished as well. Ratbat received no mercy despite his youth and a blast from a large mech's cannon blew both him and his quadrupedal brother away with an anguished scream. By then, Starscream knew something was wrong as his communication channels with them terminated without warning. Rumble and Frenzy made it out of the base just as he was touching down, cannons drawn and a furious snarl on his face.

But he was too late.

Rumble was blasted into oblivion only moments from safety, and with him Frenzy would have died, too… but Starscream saved his life by attempting something never tried before: taking the place of a bondmate. And it worked.

* * *

"Wh-wh-where is…. Wh…"

Gently, carefully, the Seeker ran the tip of one finger down Frenzy's side, not replying for fear of hurting the little mech even more. "Shush. Save your strength."

"B-b-but… where's R-R-Rumble?" the wide, scared blue optics – strange, they had been red like Rumble's before – stared up at Starscream beseechingly. "An-n-nd – you – 'Screamer, y-y-you're…"

"I'm your mate, yes. And Rumble – he's… joined the Spark of your Creator, along with your siblings."

The blue optics stared uncomprehendingly for several moments before their owner let out a wail of terror startlingly similar to Ratbat's in intensity and volume. Starscream's large hand covered his face, muffling the scream enough so that no one else could hear it. The Seeker carefully worked the tip of one finger underneath the little bot's thin armor and swiftly disconnected some circuits that, while not important, quickly sent Frenzy into recharge.

He reflected on the 'new' Frenzy, studying the limp form in his hand. The stutter was strange, considering it was Frenzy and Frenzy never even slightly stuttered, but at least it could be chalked up to battle damage. The blue optics, now that would be hard to explain. They were certainly a surprise, but Starscream was sure that Frenzy hadn't suddenly become an Autobot. He'd be the first to know, after all, considering the last of Soundwave's Creations was his bondmate. Which was another problem; bondmates could not survive without each other regardless of the circumstances of the others' death. How was he going to explain Rumble's absence from the normally inseparable pair without telling anyone about Rumble's death and his own bonded status? It was going to be… difficult, to say the least.

But by Primus, he was certainly going to try.

* * *

If there was one thing in the universe Starscream loved, it was Frenzy. And if there was one thing he absolutely hated, it was having to partner Frenzy up with someone else. He would certainly know if the bot didn't take proper care of his bondmate, and sometimes he even felt it. After that first disastrous partnership with Astrotrain, Starscream had taken to thoroughly personally screening all potential partners. Very few passed his tests, most of whom didn't even know it. The few that did were far between and generally weren't the most popular of Decepticons, either. Caring was not high on the list of traits high-ranking officers had. It became even harder after Optimus Prime had launched the Allspark into space, since their forces were spread so thinly.

Therefore, Starscream was sure he'd struck the jackpot with Barricade.

He was reasonably intelligent – he was the new science officer for the _Nemesis_ – he wasn't afraid to stand up to mechs more than twice his size, and best of all he'd been a caretaker at Floatila for a time. Frenzy wasn't really a youngling anymore of course – but he still had to be cared for like one.

"Science Officer Barricade."

The black mech lazily spun around in his seat, folding his arms and staring sullenly up at Starscream. "And who the slag are you?"

The Seeker quirked an optic ridge. "I am Starscream, second-in-command of the Decepticon forces."

Barricade did sit up straighter at that, but kept his bored expression. "That's nice. Now what do ya want from me?"

"I have a proposition for you. Follow me."

Barricade glanced around, a somewhat bewildered expression on his face. "...Right now? That was a rhetorical question, don't answer that... 'sir'..." the mech rose from his seat, automatically signaling another to take his place. He fell into step behind the Seeker, openly glaring up at anyone who even so much as looked at him the wrong way.

Starscream liked him already.

* * *

Barricade was a hit.

Frenzy loved him. He'd instantly been drawn to the small mech like matter to a black hole... likely because of the extrordinary similarities between Barricade and Rumble's personalities. And Barricade, though he'd been initially surprised to see a blue-opticed Decepticon, had taken to him from the moment they'd met. The time-consuming task of searching for a perfect partner seemed to have finally paid off, and not a moment too soon, either. The _Nemesis _was bound for some backwater system that had only been glanced at by Cybertronian scientists a million years before... but several scouts had confirmed weak telemetry signals that could have only come from Megatron. Starscream had absolutely no wish to find the errant Decepticon leader - he was quite enjoying his position at the top, after all - but still, he had to at least _pretend_ to try to find Megatron lest he have a mutiny on his hands. Maybe if he was quick about it, he could take out Megatron before anyone realized what he was doing -

"S-s-stop thinking 'S-S-Scream-m-mer. You'r-r-re m-m-making my pr-r-rocessor hurt."

Starscream glanced down at his chestplate, though he couldn't see his mate since he had buried his way underneath his armor. Again. No matter how many times Starscream had asked/begged/ordered Frenzy to stop it, the spastic bot couldn't seem to help it. The Seeker had an inkling that it reminded him of recharging in Soundwave's chest compartment, but he hadn't mentioned it to the silver mech.

"I'm afraid it's what I do best."

The Seeker got the distinct impression Frenzy was making all sorts of nonplussed gestures. "Y-y-ya well... do s-s-somethin' el-l-lse! I c-c-can't s-s-sleep with ya sen-n-nding me all th-th-this slag over the b-b-bond!"

"Very well. But only because it's you." Grinning ever so slightly, Starscream offlined his optics and settled into a more comfortable position, laying one hand over Frenzy's location. He was annoying, and often more trouble than he was worth, that was true... but at times like these, with Frenzy recharging inside of him, Starscream found he couldn't really bring himself to care.


	13. Falling On

I've had this one complete for... like, two weeks, I just didn't have time to upload it over the weekend between sleepiness, sickness, and all that wonderful type of crap... so yeah. With any luck, the next prompt'll be Ratchet/Mikaela/saved, Blackwing.Rose... :D

**Prompt**: Starscream/Barricade/falling

* * *

_You've got to find your balance,  
You've got to realize,  
You've got to try to find what's right before your eyes  
And if you find you've fallen,  
And all your grace is gone,  
Just scream for me and I'll be what you're falling on...  
**"Falling On", Finger Eleven**_

_**-x-X-x- **_

One moment everything was fine, and the next...

Starscream thought that he must have collided with a piece of space junk, perhaps something too small to register on his sensors. Up in space, even a tiny rock could be deadly if it hit the wrong spot. And, of course, Earth had plenty such miniscule pieces of junk orbiting it. Filthy humans, they couldn't even keep the space around their world clean...

The outside world degenerated into a haze of heat as the Raptor fell back into the atmosphere, spinning out of control. Whatever had hit him had practically shredded his thrusters, leaving him unable to correct his trajectory.

The ground was coming up fast. There was no time to do anything except maybe send out a distress signal. Not that anyone but the Autobots would pick it up, but it was better than getting offlined - wow, the ground looked hard. Really hard, actually. Like maybe even hard enough to smash him into little bits. What a pathetic way to die. There was really only one word he could think of to sum up the situation:

"Oh, _frag_-"

**----**

When Starscream came online, he was surprised to find himself in the middle of some forest and not in the Autobots' brig. Actually, he was somewhat surprised that he was online in the first place, but that was beside the point. He tried to online his sensors; but those were completely shot. Okay. Not good. He could live with that though. There were more important things than sensors. Like thrusters. And actually being able to feel the lower half of your body.

"...Slaggit..."

No matter how he tried to reroute the signals, they just weren't getting through to his legs. Or his back, for that matter. Therefore he was essentially trapped here, defenseless. Well he did still have his cannons and missiles, but shooting at things wasn't going to do him any good if he couldn't dodge the return shots, now was it?

All he could do was sit and stare up at the clouds and hope that his self-repair program could fix the damage. Or at the very least his legs so he could go raid some human settlement for supplies. Or maybe, if he strained, he could reach those tools lying just out of his reach -

_Waitaminute_.

Tools meant humans. Or considering their size - Cybertronians. No Autobot would try to fix him before bringing him back to base, and there were no Neutrals in the area that Starscream knew of, which left - Decepticons. But despite being the second-in-command - well, the leader, now - he wasn't the most popular Decepticon around and most of them wouldn't help him. Who was he kidding, most of them would shoot him on sight. So who -?

Movement at the edge of his vision made him start in fright and draw his cannons. He couldn't really move without having any sort of control over his back, but he certainly made the effort. To the Pit with self-preservation, he wanted to at least put up a bit of a fight before whoever it was offlined or captured him -

"...Barricade?"

The Mustang, surprisingly, had not drawn his own cannons. He merely stood there with a 'deer-in-the-headlights' sort of look, optics trained on the deadly weapon hovering only centimeters away from his face. After several moments, Starscream retracted his cannon and twisted back into a more comfortable position with a groan. He didn't trust Barricade - _that_ honor went to a single Neutral Seeker he hadn't seen in vorns - but he knew the smaller mech wouldn't try to offline him. Barricade was one of the few who seemed to actually approve of his leadership over Megatron's, and besides that, he was one of the more intelligent Decepticons and knew when it was a bad idea to start a fight. Even mostly immobilized, Starscream was more than a match for him in firepower.

Plus there was the fact that Barricade seemed to be the one who'd begun to repair him.

The black mech did not move for several more minutes, and a heavy silence fell over the small clearing Starscream had created during his crash. Finally, the Seeker could take Barricade's continued stillness no longer.

"Well? What are you doing just standing there? Whatever you're doing, hurry up and get it over with!"

Barricade made the strangest noise - something between a squeak of surprise and an affirmative - and practically leapt towards the assembled tools. Starscream quirked an optic ridge, unused to his commands being obeyed so quickly. But still, there was something about the way the small mech was going about his task, a sort of - timidness? - that did not fit him. For a moment, the Raptor wondered if Barricade had been badly damaged in the Mission City battle and his processor was somewhat 'out of it'; but there were no glaringly obvious scars on his frame, or none anywhere near his CPU anyways. So what was causing this strange behavior...?

He realized, after some time, that the Mustang seemed reluctant to touch him. Starscream couldn't see much, of course, considering he was laying flat on his back, but when Barricade was working on his legs he could catch glimpses of him. His movements seemed - hesitant, almost, as though he was afraid of touching the wrong parts or connecting the wrong things. Nevermind the fact that he had practically been Bonecrusher's assistant medic, that sort of behavior was not like Barricade at all. He'd _always_ been sure of himself, or at least outwardly seemed to be.

It was, quite frankly, a little unnerving.

"Barricade," Starscream finally snapped, unable to take the strange behavior any longer, "What the frag is wrong with you? You're acting like a scared sparkling!"

"I-I'm sorry, my Lord," came the almost-shy reply, "I just - I'm -"

"Is your vocal processor malfunctioning?" the Seeker spat impatiently, propping himself up on his elbows so as to get a better look at the somewhat-cringing mech, "Because it fragging sounds like it-ack!"

Starscream's sentence ended in an exclamation of surprise as Barricade practically _glomped_ him, driving his back into the dirt with a thud. For a moment he was totally bewildered as to what exactly was going on but then all the pieces fell into place and he realized... that _Barricade was attracted to him_?

Well, it was an interesting sensation, to be sure. Kind of nice, too - and then Barricade did _something_ with the circuits just underneath his armor and _wow_ that felt good-

"You called me, you know," the black mech muttered, optics shuttered and unoccupied limbs wrapped as far as they could go around Starscream's bulk.

"I - I what?" it was a little difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences, because _oh wow_ -

"Your distress call. You screamed my name. And that was it. So I came."

Starscream didn't exactly remember that, but then again everything from just before the crash _was_ a little hazy, and he _did_ remember screaming something - not that it really mattered right now since Barricade was oh-so-close to touching his Spark chamber...

To his disappointment, the Mustang rolled off of his chest and stood to go continue his repairs. Starscream would have none of it; he wanted to overload _now_, fraggit. "Nevermind the slagging repairs, get back here!" he growled, deftly snagging one of Barricade's legs and dragging the not-even-slightly-resisting mech back to him.

**----**

_Sometime Later..._

Starscream's legs were still slagged beyond belief. He still couldn't feel his back. He had dirt and other disgusting organic materials in places he didn't even want to contemplate. And there was a tree stuck in his shoulder. But somehow, he found himself rather comfortable, what with Barricade just laying there on his chest and the stars shining overhead. It was a lot more peaceful than - well, than anything he'd experienced in vorns.

Maybe falling back into Earth's atmosphere wasn't that bad of a thing after all.


	14. After Midnight, Before the Dawn

OMG UPDATE :O Anyways, this was more or less inspired by certain chapters of DarkAngelLilith's "Snapshots"... okay, I've pimped her writing _twice_ in the same fic-series now, you _have_ to go read it XDD

On a mostly unrelated note, the end of this is totally illogical. Ah well. Logic is for Vulcans and Prowls! XP

**Rating:** I'm almost, _almost_ tempted to rate this one M... but I think I can make it T... T-plus? x.X  
**Prompt:** I must've got this pairing like five times and finally just decided to go with it... mostly uses Blackout/Judy/after midnight and Judy/Blackout/beginnings... hmm, the only 'formers I haven't used are Prime and Brawl..._(contemplative look)_

* * *

It was well after midnight. 

The sun was just beginning to come up over the horizon, staining the sky a soft pink-yellow. The birds were beginning to awaken, their sweet song filling the morning air and floating over the breeze.

But all of nature's beauty was lost on one Judy Witwicky.

It wasn't that she disliked nature; far from it. After all, she did spend an inordinate amount of time puttering around the garden, fussing over her plants. No, it was because there was something else holding her attention, something a little more - synthetic in nature.

The hologram beside her muttered something in his sleep that sounded an awful lot like 'Scorponok'.

She smiled slightly at the man, fully aware that she was probably the only one to have seen him this vulnerable. Even if this _was_ only a hologram, and for all she knew the machine powering it was off doing... whatever giant alien robots did this early in the morning. Still, she had the distinct feeling that he really _was_ asleep in his true form, or whatever passed for sleeping in his kind. Somewhere, someplace close, yet well-hidden lest Sam and Bumblebee return early.

Sam and Bee...

Briefly, she wondered what would happen to her if Sam or Ron or - well, _anyone_ found out about her guilty little secret. The Autobots would never trust her again, she was fairly certain of that much. Ron would be completely surprised, at first, and then he'd probably be furious... but by that point, she'd probably be long gone one way or another. And Sam? He'd be so, so... disappointed. Yes, that was a good word for it. Disappointed. And he'd feel furious, and betrayed, and...

Heaving a sigh, Judy half-rolled and buried her face in her pillow, careful not to disturb the hologram beside her. If holograms could even be disturbed. She'd promised herself not to dwell on things like that when she'd first ended up in this impossible situation, because she was certain she'd slowly drive herself insane. Well, if she wasn't already, because after all this was a _giant evil alien robot_ that she'd fallen in lust with - or was it love now? Either way, you'd have to be insane to be attracted to a metal creature like that - wouldn't you? But then again... maybe, maybe somehow in a weird way it made some kind of sense. Psychologists could find reasons for _everything_. Mindful of her sleeping lover, the woman just barely stifled a laugh at the mental image of her chatting with Dr. Phil... she had an inkling of the conversation going something like so:

Judy: So, Doctor, I have a bit of a problem...  
Dr. Phil: Please, tell me Judy. I'm sure I can help.  
Judy: Well, the thing is, I think I'm in love with a giant alien robot from the planet Cybertron, and he just so happens to be one of the bad guys bent on destroying and/or enslaving the entire human race. So... have any advice for me?  
Dr. Phil: …Um...

She snorted into her pillow, shaking with repressed mirth at her 'mental confidant's expression. It likely wouldn't go anything like that in the real world, but still, it was amusing nonetheless. In a weird, not quite-right kind of way. She sighed again before adjusting her position so that she was back on her side and gazing at the hologram.

The way they'd met certainly was... unusual, that was for sure. She had been his captive, his hostage; a mere bargaining chip in his struggle to escape Earth and come back with soldiers loyal to Megatron. But then... then something had happened one night. He'd gotten lonely, or bored, or curious, and... well, he'd talked to her. Actually _talked_, not just the few not-at-all flattering words in a couple different languages he'd shot her way before. And things... things had kind of, sort of, escalated from there. Before she knew it, she was suddenly engaging in some wild and passionate nooky with a hologram at least a foot taller than her before being released as a hostage, seemingly for no reason to the Autobots.

Then he'd nearly given her a heart attack when he unexpectedly visited her in her own home when both Ron and Sam were out and... well, things just kept snowballing from there.

The object of her thoughts stirred slightly beside her.

Immediately, she froze - or attempted to anyways - hoping that he'd fall back asleep. No such luck. The hologram opened his eyes slowly, squinting at her for a moment before he seemed to fully wake up.

"...Good morning?" he asked more than said, as though he were unsure of the proper way to greet her.

"Good morning," Judy replied with a smile, drinking in his handsome - and very much naked - body. He looked real, right down to the smallest scars and hairs... well, except for perhaps those unnaturally luminescent ruby red irises. But really, they just added to the air of - of _something_ about him. Something that, whatever it was, had drawn her to him like a moth to a flame.

Like a moth to a flame... would she, like the moth, get burned to a crisp by his innocently seductive beauty?

Blackout's voice broke her out of her slightly morbid thoughts. "I will be leaving soon. I must help my... partner."

Judy knew she probably shouldn't pry into the affairs of a being that could turn her into so much dust floating on the morning breeze, but curiosity compelled her. "Your... partner?"

For a moment she feared that he wouldn't answer, or worse, would demand why she was asking. But her fears were unfounded and he merely nodded after a long moment. "Yes. That is the closest word in your language I can find."

"His name is Scorponok, isn't it?" she asked, desperately trying to get him to stay for a while longer.

"Yes." he seemed quite curious about her reaction to his imminent departure, though expressions certainly weren't his strong point. "You are... attracted to me, Judy Witwicky."

The way he said it almost made her want to throttle him even though it wouldn't do anything. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a calming breath. "Damn right I am, I've gone against all my marriage vows and betrayed my husband's trust to have an apparent one-night-stand-type-affair with you. The_ least_ you could do is call me Judy. Just Judy."

Blackout made a noncommital grunt, though he seemed to be deep in thought. "I believe..." he began slowly, seemingly focused on some far-off point, "That I may be attracted to you as well… Judy."

And for Judy, everything froze in that moment in time. Although she had, indeed, admitted that she was attracted to a machine, she'd never imagined for him to feel the same about her. She was weak and small, and to be honest, rather stupid in comparison to him. He could crush her with a finger, expending absolutely no effort at all. And yet…

"You…you…"

The dark-skinned man said nothing, still staring off into space, and for a moment she thought that he hadn't heard her, or was ignoring her stuttering. But then he spoke, and Judy's eyes widened. "Accompany me to Qatar so I may find my partner."

He – he wanted _her_ to _come with him_? "But… but why?"

"You may be useful in teaching me the nuances of humanity," Blackout replied, looking away from her slightly, eyes cast down.

Though he was alien, Judy knew a male embarrassed to talk about his real feelings when she saw one. Men. All the same, no matter what the species. But... the real question was, would she take him up on his offer? _Could_ she? Could she leave her stable life of relaxation and privilege behind, and exchange it for something most likely full of scarcity and certain danger? And for nothing more than a feeling that she wasn't exactly sure of? She'd had her own little, minor flings over the years, and she was almost certain Ron had too… but in the end, they'd always come back to one another with very little hassle. So was this lust? Or something more...?

"I... don't know if I can make that decision," she eventually admitted in a quiet voice, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. "I don't know if I can leave Ron and Sam behind, and everything else I've got in my life..."

To her surprise, Blackout touched her chest, gently, with one hand. There was nothing sexual about it; it seemed to be the same for him and putting a hand on someone's shoulder, or touching someone's face to reassure them. "Follow your spark. It will tell you what to do."

Though she didn't know what, exactly a 'spark' was, the meaning was clear. She though of Ron and the cameradie between them that had lasted through thick and thin. She thought of Sam, her one and only child who had grown up so fast. She thought of all her possessions, her Mojo, her garden. And yet – yet despite everything she'd be leaving behind... Somehow she wanted to go with Blackout, and see places that she'd never see otherwise, see what the Cybertronian war was like from the other side, do things she'd never be able to do here in Tranquility.

Besides, a little bit of adventure would do her good. She was getting a little restless here.

"I'll come."

And Blackout smiled – a real smile, despite its stiffness - and from a distance she could hear the distinctive sound of a helicopter coming to life. "I will arrive here shortly; will you be ready?"

"I will."

Not thirty minutes later, Judy stood beside the imposing black helicopter, looking back at what had once been her house. She would miss everything and everyone, certainly, but somehow, she knew this was the right thing to do.

It was well after midnight, and a new beginning was rising with the sun as she stepped inside.


	15. The Merits of Poking

Ugh. Short chapter is short. Also, Dispensor is female because I'm the author and I say so ;)

**Prompt:** Dispensor/Brawl/bad touch

* * *

Brawl was sure he'd go totally, certifiably insane within a week of this. He was supposed to be dead, true, and if it weren't for her he probably would have offlined by now. That little tidbit of info, of course, didn't soften his frustration and annoyance with the formerly nonsentient Dew machine. He'd managed to discern that her name was Dispensor, and that was about it before she had started trying to repair him. That confused him, too, but maybe it was just part of her nature. Maybe she was medic-sparked. Still, she was little more than a drone and was therefore completely oblivious to her companion's discomfort. She scurried around the much larger bot, poking, prodding, and fixing anything her limited intelligence could decipher the function of. Brawl might have been a big gruff tank who could kill her with a flick of his finger at any other time, but she still seemed to be rather attached to him. He couldn't figure out why. It sure as the Pit unnerved him, though - she looked eerily similar to the army of medical drones that the Constructicons had favored as helpers, and he didn't exactly have the best memories about them.

And suddenly, Dispensor poked something that really did not need to be poked, and Brawl let out a rather unmacho squeak with what was left of his vocalizer.

The Dew machine tilted her head to the side in curiosity, regarding the thick tube she'd just touched.

"Don't you dare," Brawl snarled, ignoring the pain of utilizing his voice, "Don't you _dare_."

But, of course, she did. This time, she scratched along what she could see of its length with one claw, clapping her secondary pair of hands in delight when Brawl made the same squeaky noise. Her powerful legs allowed her to leap right on top of the tankformer's mangled frame; she was no longer trying to figure out what needed repairs. Rather, she fully intended to see where this oh-so-interesting tube led to.

"Get the frag _off_ me, you two-bit glitch!" he tried, unsuccessfully, to move an arm, a leg, _something_ that could be used for leverage, for shaking his frame, to smack Dispensor off, _anything_. He was out of luck; his gears and servos refused to respond anywhere south of his neck.

She clicked in reply, almost cheekily; she knew that he had almost no control over most of his frame. Therefore, she could do as she pleased. For now. Shifting aside some half-melted metal and tangled wires, she found a dully glowing box. After several moments of thought, Dispensor poked it.

Brawl's entire frame shuddered underneath her, a stream of staticky clicks and beeps escaping his vocalizer. 

She clapped again, giggling. Something about the sounds he was making was obviously entertaining her a great deal.

Oh, Primus. This was... absolutely embarrassing. He was getting off from a half-sentient drone with the mental capacity of a sparkling. Who had absolutely no intentions of doing anything more than teasing. "Someone just shoot me now..." he moaned to no one. She poked his Spark casing again, and he shuddered in pleasure as she giggled.

Something told him that this was going to be a _long_ night.


	16. Playmate

This chappie... doesn't really relate to the original prompt. This is mostly thanks to the fact that while in the shower and pondering how Scorpy would communicate with Blackout, my mind made the not-so-startling leap that, 'Hay! Maybe interface ports and drone-communication-ports are almost identical!' Am I the only one who ponders these things at that specific time...?

**Prompt:** Bumblebee/Scorponok/conspiracy

* * *

Scorponok clicked.

Bumblebee made no sound.

Scorponok scowled, poking the slumbering Camaro with one digging claw. He was bored out of his mind. So what if it was the middle of the night and Bumblebee had specifically forbidden him to go near the Witwicky residence? Since he'd decided to become an Autobot in light of the fact that there were no Decepticons left on the planet, he'd discovered that Autobots were rather... lax in terms of punishment. So there was no danger of any sort of physical reprimand.

Scorponok clicked louder.

Bumblebee made no sound.

Tail waving in frustration, he skittered around the car several times before stopping at the passenger side doors. Why wouldn't the slagger _wake up_?

Scorponok headbutted the door.

Bumblebee shifted on his suspension slightly.

He went around the car another few times, wondering if shooting something would wake Bumblebee up. He decided that yes, it probably would, but then the Autobot probably wouldn't want to play with him. That wouldn't be any fun. He sort of missed his old owner, at least Blackout praised him when he destroyed things...

Scorponok whacked the hood with his tail.

Bumblebee whuffed.

Hissing, Scorponok started to leave. And came back after only a few steps. Bumblebee was his only playmate. Everyone else was terrified of him, wanted to kill him, or was too full of themselves. If he couldn't wake the Camaro up... he'd be awake all night bored. And that was unthinkable. Time to pull out the big guns.

Scorponok beelined towards Bumblebee's only altmode-accessible interface port and jacked in. For a moment, the Camaro did nothing but make a small noise of pleasure, but then-

He woke up.

"_SCORPY_!" The Autobot promptly transformed and yanked Scorponok out of his port, dangling the drone by his tail in front of his face. "What did I tell you about _doing_ that?" a pause. "And I thought I _ordered_ you to stay away from Sam's house! Aren't drones supposed to be _obedient_?"

Scorponok tucked his legs against his body, clicking innocently.

Bumblebee gave the drone a hard look, nonplussed. Slowly, though, his less-than-amused expression disappeared, and he allowed the drone to crawl along his arm to perch on his shoulders. A sigh. "What am I going to _do_ with you? You can't just wander around Tranquility..."

Scorponok scraped his back plates together, making a rattling sound.

"I guess you want to play, don't you?"

An affirmative click and Scorponok half-leapt, half-crawled to the ground, tail wagging in anticipation.

Bumblebee sighed again. "Okay, okay. But no destroying things. Got it?"

Scorponok clicked happily and promptly burrowed into the soil. He got all of five feet before knocking over a small tree. His playmate brought a hand to his face in a 'why me?' gesture, but folded back into his Camaro form anyways and followed the drone. At least nothing had gotten blown up yet.

Yet.


	17. The Poet and the Pendulum

Starscream is ridiculously difficult to write in 1st-person. It probably doesn't help that I fail at 1st-person writing...

Also the chap-title has little to do with the fic, it was just what I was listening to XDD ("The Poet and the Pendulum", Nightwish) The lyrics do fit Screamer strangely well, though...

**Prompt:** Blackout/Starscream/pressure

* * *

"Ow!"

I could almost see the Rotary hunched over me rolling his optics. He didn't think much of me; in fact, he probably thought of me as nothing more than an annoyance, a whiny Seeker. And, truthfully, I do know that I can be childish at times. But believe it or not, having one's main energon line held in a death grip is painful. It didn't help that Blackout was almost certainly squeezing harder than was necessary.

"Suck it up, jetboy. Or do you _want_ me to let you bleed out?"

I glared up at him. He would pay for this later. Oh yes, he would indeed. "...No." I replied reluctantly, wishing that someone, _anyone _else - even perhaps an _Autobot_ - had found me in this state. Blackout's large digits scraped along my line and I couldn't help but wince. He _was_ doing this on purpose... "You _could_ be a little more gentle, however."

He sneered down at me, the glee clearly visible in his optics. "Gentle? Me? You forget who you're talking to, Screamer."

I growled, narrowing my remaining optic. Only a select few could call me that and get away with it in one piece. Blackout was _certainly not one of them_. But right now I couldn't do much of anything in retaliation - he quite literally held my life in his hands. Revenge would have to wait until I was repaired. I am many things, yes, but an idiot is not one of them. Without his grip on the tube in my chest I would have bled out a long while ago. Living is certainly a more attractive option than dying of energon loss; at least this way I'd only lose some of my dignity.

More than I've lost already, that is, by depending on a half-wit Rotary and his drone...

"Disgusting..." Blackout muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. I had no doubts about the fact that he was referring to the plasma that covered a good portion of his frame. Some of it was from the Autobots we'd battled recently, yes, but quite a lot of it was mine. "It's going to take me _orns_ to get this off..."

"And here I thought that you _enjoyed_ seeing others' fluids on your hands..." I shot back before I could stop myself. Sometimes, having a quick wit and snappish vocalizer can be extremely detrimental to one's health. I may be the second-in-command of the Decepticon forces, but Blackout has an infamous temper. And then there is the fact that it isn't wise to antagonize the one who literally holds one's life in their hands...

"Oh, I do," Blackout replied, the acid in his voice equal to that in mine, "But I much prefer if it comes from Autobots... or at least their _equals_."

I snarled, half-sitting and extending the blade in my left wrist. How _dare_ he insinuate that I was _lower_ than an _Autobot_...!

_Pain_...!

Warning signals flashed across my vision and I collapsed back to the ground with a stifled screech. Slowly, Blackout lessened the grip on my line until the pressure was bearable. For a moment I could do nothing but cycle air through my vents, trying to compose myself. I offlined my optic. Blackout, no doubt, was delighting in his victory over me, and I did not want to see his _insufferable_ face.

"Feeling a little... helpless, Screamer?"

Silently, I fumed. How _dare_ he, a mere _soldier_ - although, admittedly, he was Megatron's pet - treat me like _this_?! This was - this was - _infuriating_...! One day - one day _soon_ - Blackout was going to find himself and his drone the target of an aerial ambush. Forget Megatron and whatever retaliation he would have in store for me. I was going to _kill_ Blackout when this was over.

I was too busy planning my revenge to notice the shifting of the Rotary's hands, at first. But the sensation of energon against one's circuitry is difficult to miss, and Blackout's hands were coated in it. And then there was the feeling of air flowing over my faceplates; Blackout had leaned over until our faces were almost touching. I onlined my optic, wondering what had prompted this sudden change in atmosphere.

"You're cute when you're angry."

...Well. That was... unexpected. And if I wanted to be truthful to myself, not entirely unwelcome. Of course, I wasn't going to tell Blackout _that_. I _do_ have a reputation to upkeep, after all. "You are _asking_ for later retaliation, aren't you?" I snapped, trying to inject as much venom into my voice as I could. With some luck, perhaps he'd back off.

He smirked. Apparently, my intentions were having the exact opposite effect of what I'd wanted. "Definitely."

And then there was an _explosion_ of _pleasure_ in my chest and I caught a glimpse of Blackout's delighted expression before the sensation _overwhelmed me_.

Oh, I would _certainly_ punish him later for this. But in light of recent events... perhaps I'd give him a _bit_ of a head start...


	18. Jealousy Or The Lack Therof

Well, I tried doing some movieverse random pairing generator prompts, but... it didn't exactly work too well, sooo... I made my own TFA generator and used that instead XDD

**Rated (T) For:** almost-smutzin's  
**Prompt:** Bumblebee/Prowl/jealous

* * *

Prowl was jealous.

Of Bumblebee.

It had taken him the better part of a week to finally realize what the emotion was, for the simple fact that it was very rare that he actually felt it.

Now... now he just had to figure out _why_ he was jealous. There wasn't anything to be jealous _about_. Bumblebee was small, loudmouthed, brash. Weak in both mind and body; annoying and impulsive. He was everything Prowl did not want to be.

And then, all at once, he realized the _why_. There was one thing Bumblebee was that Prowl wanted to be, _wished_ he could be... but was seemingly incapable of.

Bumblebee was _social_.

He made friends with ridiculous ease; made people like him upon meeting, despite his numerous flaws. He was loudmouthed, but at the same time... he was extraordinarily adept at noticing the emotional status of others and adapting accordingly. And, best of all - or perhaps that was worst of all - he did it without even noticing. It was simply instinctual for Bumblebee - he was built to be _good_ at social interactions... a quality that Prowl was dearly lacking.

"Hey Prowler!"

And, apparently, he could tell when someone was preoccupied and exploited that for all its worth.

"What do you _want_, Bumblebee."

"Nothin'!" came the cheery reply as Bumblebee stretched out on the couch, offering a grin. He draped his legs across Prowl's, obviously intending to try to keep the older bot there. "Just wanted to, y'know, say hi."

"Of course you did," Prowl replied flatly, obviously nonplussed.

Bumblebee sighed, sitting upright. "Prowl... it wouldn't kill ya to be nice once in a while, would it?"

The black-and-gold mech was taken aback. "I... what do you mean?"

"You're always all... distant and stuff, y'know? And don't tell me it's 'cause you're a ninja, Jazz is too and he's _nothin'_ like you."

Prowl simply gaped for a moment before having the sense to close his mouth. "I... ah... I'm not exactly the best at social interactions..." And he was admitting this _why_, again?

Bumblebee giggled, sounding far younger than he really was. "Prowler... ya don't need to be good at social... whatevers to be _nice_. Just... listen a bit more, talk rather than bein' alone... make sense?"

"I... suppose..."

"Wanna practice?"

Prowl gaped again at the offer before rolling his optics skyward in a 'why me' gesture. Not... that he really had anything better to do at the moment, however... "...Very well." Why did he have the feeling he was going to regret this?

The yellow mech grinned again and swung his legs back up, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back onto the arm of the couch. "Okay. Sooo... what'd ya think of that weird bank robber we nabbed yesterday? Total nutcase, with the suit and all, right?"

Prowl simply quirked an optic ridge at Bumblebee.

Bumblebee therefore dropped his head back onto the arm of the couch in exasperation. "You're not even _trying_."

"...I truly don't know what to say," Prowl admitted reluctantly, "The topic is... pointless, to put it lightly."

"That's the _point_, Prowl. It's called 'small talk', yeah?" when he received no response, he sighed. "Alright, alright. Let's try again. A more _serious_ topic this time."

"Very well."

Bumblebee thought for several long moments... and then a mischievous grin spread across his face.

_'...I am so slagged...'_

"What'cha think of _this_?" And Bumblebee leaned forwards, shifting until he was practically kneeling on Prowl's lap, and... pressed their lips together.

Time froze for a moment that stretched into eternity.

The yellow bot pulled back, that same grin still plastered on his face. "How's _that_ for a conversation starter?"

Startled - and, admittedly, a little charged - Prowl distractedly brought his fingertips to his lips. "...What _was_ that?"

Smugly, Bumblebee sat back, folding his arms. "A kiss. Humans do it all the time... now I can see why."

"It was... enjoyable..." the black-and-gold bot replied slowly, tilting his head down at Bumblebee. Perhaps... enjoyable enough for a repeat? With that thought, he leaned down, capturing his companion's lips in his own.

Oh yeah. _Definitely_ enjoyable enough for a repeat.

Bumblebee deepened the kiss, poking his glossa into the other's mouth and dragging his hands along Prowl's sides. Prowl returned the favor, using one hand to stroke the little horns on the yellow bot's head, those were _bound_ to be sensitive-

"EEW! GROSS!"

Both bots' heads shot up at the intrusion, optics zeroing in on their interrupter.

"Er... Hi, Sari." Bumblebee finally said, grinning sheepishly. "We were just... um..."

"I don't even _wanna_ know." Sari interrupted, slapping one hand over her eyes before making a speedy exit.

They stared after her for several long moments before Bumblebee shrugged and grabbed Prowl's crest, dragging him back down for another searing kiss.

So maybe the yellow mech was better at social interactions. So maybe he was better at interfacing, too. But, somehow, Prowl wasn't jealous anymore.

And then, of course, Bumblebee forcibly removed all thoughts, especially of now-gone jealousy, from his processor.


	19. Voice to Voice

Oh wow. I haven't updated this thing for over a year DX *fails*

I realize most of you have this alerted for the movieverse crackpairings, but I just can't seem to come up with anything long enough from the available movie characters. But hey, when TF: ROF comes out, I can add all the new bots/cons/humans to my generator :D

Also I just realized that my last update was on the exact same date - just one year later - as the original uploading. Kinda neat.

**Rating:** high T  
**Uploaded:** May 21/09  
**Prompt:** Jazz/Perceptor/voice

* * *

"This frequency is for emergencies only."

Jazz grinned in reply, relaxing back into his chair and propping his feet up on the console. "Who said it wasn' an emergency, _Purrrcy_?"

The science mech's face seemed as impassive as ever to the average observer, but Jazz could see the very slight facial twitch that betrayed his emotions. Never failed, that cheeky nickname. "State your business."

Jazz gave a mock-pout. It probably would have worked better if he could stop grinning. "Aww c'mon... can't a bot just _talk_ to his oh-so-_beautiful_ lover?"

Perceptor, apparently, would not be swayed by flattery... even if it _was_ the truth, at least in Jazz's optics. "I am a very busy mech. I am afraid I do not have time for social calls."

Jazz steepled his fingers, regarding him with a sort of bemused expression. Poor mech was just digging himself a deeper hole, and it was gonna be hard as Pit for him to climb back out. "Cept I'm a bit more'n a 'social call', aren't I?"

There was a short pause. "That is correct. However, that does not mean I have free time. In addition, this frequency is to be used for shipwide emergencies only-"

"Lover o' mine, have I ever told you just how _sensuous_ that voice o' yours is?" Jazz interrupted, provocatively dragging his glossa over his lips. No way he was going to let Perceptor find a way out of this conversation.

Was that a blush? - yes, that _was_ a blush. "I do not have time for this, Jazz-"

Ah - his name! Perceptor was weakening - perfect. Time to pour on the seduction. "Mmm, _Purrcy_... just keep on talkin'... you have _no_ idea how much your voice revs my engine..."

"I - I -"

It was cute, how flustered he was getting... then again, it wasn't like Perceptor'd ever really been in an intimate relationship before, by his own admission. 'Socially awkward' didn't even _begin_ to describe the poor mech. "Babe, you have no idea how much I wish you were here... what I'd do...." he grinned again, trading the lip-licking for a bit of finger-licking. Primus, he loved getting Perceptor worked up like this.

Those pouty little lips that Jazz loved so much twitched with some unidentifiable emotion... embarrassment, nervousness, maybe even arousal? Their owner turned away slightly, optics averted, his blush becoming easily visible. "Jazz, this is not the proper -"

"Oh, but it is _totally_ much more exciting, isn't it Percy?" This was very rapidly escalating beyond simple baiting... Jazz hadn't been kidding when he said that Perceptor's voice did funny things to his engine. It was admittedly quite strange, but somehow the heavily digitized voice turned him on like nothing else ever had, did, or probably ever would. Whoever said the world worked in strange ways was definitely right.

When Perceptor said nothing in response, very obviously trying to find a way to tell Jazz to go away without hurting his feelings, said mech decided to ramp it up a little. Perceptor's optics practically leapt out of his head as Jazz began to trail his digits up and down his frame... oh how that expression made the sensation so much better....

Perceptor's mouth worked as Jazz dug into his chest seams, trying to find that one little wire that did some _amazing_ things - there! There it was - and he arched into the touch with an unapologetic moan. "Mmm... _Purrrcy_.... talk to me, babe. Tell me what y'want...."

For a moment, Jazz thought that maybe Perceptor would brush him off, tell him to get lost - maybe he was overstepping his bounds. The mech presented such an emotionless exterior that it was impossible to tell at times. But as he began to fondle his circuitry with more passion, unable stop himself from squirming, Perceptor's resolve visibly weakened. Now, his optics were widening in such a way that made him look far less shocked and far more... interested. Any pretense at emotionless was swiftly going out the airlock, much to Jazz's delight.

"I-" Perceptor hesitated, uncertain, before glancing to his sides and then behind. There was a long pause as the mech waged an inner battle between the naughty and the nice... and he was biting his lip a little bit, too. Primus, did the mech have no idea of what he was _doing_? If this went on much longer... slag, he'd have to just seal off the bridge and overload himself right here and now. Not that that sounded like a bad idea, mind you... it _was_ the middle of the night for this particular ship, after all, and everyone else was recharging....

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Perceptor nodded as if to reassure himself, and Jazz could hear the 'whoosh' of a door sliding shut and the accompanying click indicating it was locked. Seemed like he'd sealed himself in his office....

....Wait - Perceptor had sealed himself in his office?

Jazz laughed - breathless, giddy, delighted that he'd actually been able to wheedle Perceptor into something for once. A few quick taps on the console in front of him locked the bridge to everyone without the proper code. No need to have Sentinel or the twins walk in on them with no warning... _that_ would be an absolute _nightmare_...

There was another long pause as Perceptor tried to figure out what to say. Jazz helped him along a little by resuming his exploration of his armor seams. And hey, if his lover just wanted to play the voyeur... that was perfectly fine too. Although... he did want to hear that voice....

It seemed Perceptor had spontaneously developed the ability to read minds, because he came to the exact same conclusion. He began to speak, voice slowly gaining in confidence as he went. "Jazz - offline your optics. I am... there with you. My hands are travelling along your frame and lingering on your most sensitive areas...."

Jazz grinned. _Primus,_ this was gonna be fun.


	20. Boredom and the Chaos it May Cause

**Genre:** Humor**  
Rating:** K+**  
Uploaded:** August 1 /09**  
Prompt:** Sideswipe / Robert Epps / monotony

Whee Sideswipe~ Wish Sunstreaker was in ROTF, though... would've taken him and - well, _anyone_ - over Mudflap and Skids...

* * *

The two most horrifying words Robert Epps knew were not 'Decepticon attack!' or 'terrorist attack!' or even a generic 'look out!'. No, they were something far more mundane, something that only a certain few could turn into terror incarnate.

He could feel them coming. The words, that was. He'd been around this particular person long enough to be able to predict the words' arrival with frightening accuracy. And right now, his spider senses were going apeshit. In three, two, one -

"I'm bored."

Epps almost cringed. Almost.

"Siders, I thought you had the entire internet at your fingertips. How the hell are you _bored_?"

"Don't call me that." the reply was a knee-jerk reaction, something that had become just as much of a habit as the nickname itself - so, luckily for Epps, there was no longer any sort of force behind the words. "Internet's boring. There's nothing left for me to look up." A thoughtful pause.

Epps knew what that pause meant, too. The pause was as scary as the words themselves - scarier, maybe, because it simply prolonged the torture. "Siders, don't you dare -"

"Wanna buy some shovels for me? Three should be good. And don't call me that."

Epps did cringe, this time. Whatever Sideswipe planned to do with three shovels - well it didn't matter what he planned, because Epps was having no part in it. "No. Siders, no, I'm tellin' you -"

"Don't call me that."

"- I'm not becomin' an accomplice in one of your pranks. Remember the comb incident? Remember that, Siders? There is no way I'm ever doing anything like that ever again. _Ever_. You hear me? E-_ver_."

"Oh, it won't be, Bobby!" Sideswipe replied cheerfully, "It'll be so much better. See, 'cause, first we have to -"

"Don't even say it! Siders, seriously, I don't wanna get involved. I'm serious."

There was a long silence. "Don't call me that," Sideswipe finally muttered.

Epps almost felt bad. Key word there was 'almost'. Because there was no way he was ever going to get involved in one of Sideswipe's pranks ever again. Except Sides was looking kind of miserable... how it was possible for a car to look miserable was anyone's guess. He was just that good, apparently.

"...There'll be something in it for you later, Bobby~"

The tone alone gave Epps reason for pause. Sideswipe was, ordinarily, a mech of exactly two emotions: cheeky and beyond furious. 'Seductive' was not a word that went well with the mech. At all. And yet, here he was, using _that_ voice -

"Really now." Ahaha. His voice wasn't even slightly even. So much for that plan.

"Oh, yes. And, all you have to do is buy me a few shovels. And a couple other things. You don't even have to help me set up. Then, later..." a pause, one intended for dramatic effect this time. It worked fairly well. Plus Sideswipe did that neat little _purr_ with his engine, one that sent rather interesting vibrations through a very important part of his anatomy... "...Well. Let's just say I learned a few tricks."

Okay, well, when Sideswipe put it that way it was kind of impossible to refuse. Damn Stingray. Always getting what he wanted. "...Fine. Fine. You win this time, Siders."

"Good man! Knew I could count on you, Bobby. Let's go get my shovels! And don't call me that."


	21. Ill Will

lol what's this? An _update_? C'est impossible!  
(Hoping to do one more before my DOTM happy-haze vanishes, lolol)

I was reading the _Borealis_ 'verse by Tainry on lj as I scribbled this. The influence shows. |D

There are no DOTM spoilers.

**Uploaded:** July 5/11**  
Prompt:** Soundwave / Barricade / grudge

* * *

Soundwave has landed.

Barricade is already running.

x-

Running doesn't do him any good, of course. Soundwave finds him. He has a feeling Soundwave found him a long time ago, and has just been taking his sweet time.

Still, it feels good to have the pavement flying past. Just one last time.

Because Soundwave is going to kill him.

He's flipped end over end, half-transformed, and wonders if he should just kill himself and be done with it.

x-

He's not entirely sure of why he's still alive.

A pair of avians perch on his shoulders. Like waiting vultures, he thinks. (Then he wonders how in Primus' name he's gotten so acclimated to the squishies' culture.)

Soundwave regards him impassively from halfway across the field. His sonic cannon is still raised; from here he can see its mechanisms shifting as it prepares to fire.

It never does. Soundwave lowers it without a word. Barricade wonders if he's going to be left to bleed out. A slow, painful death. Quite possible. Or perhaps Soundwave wants to cannibalize his parts and energy. Very efficient.

"Get up."

One of his legs is nothing but dead weight. His torso is slagged nearly beyond recognition. And yet the musical monotone is impossible to disobey...

x-

Barricade comes online to digits ghosting over his hip.

He remains still for a moment, his systems still on low. The diagnostics say his frame has been extensively tampered with. This doesn't surprise him. What does surprise him is that he would have died without the tampering.

He onlines his optics - just two of them work, he discovers, the others are wrecked - and he's greeted with a view of the stars.

The view is immediately ruined as an avian leans over his face.

He wills himself to calmness. The avian is calm. Curious, even. It shows in its posture and energy field. As all the fields around him are. They overlap and intertwine curiously, in a way he hasn't seen in years. Not since Frenzy -

Barricade jerks. The avian perched on his helm half-takes off with a screech. The hand on his hip tightens its grip.

_Cease._

It's not exactly comms, and it's not speech. It's something new. And, Barricade suspects, something unique to Soundwave. The first impulse is to ignore the command and start running again, structural damage be damned.

Still. He's not dead, inexplicably. Soundwave currently wants him to live, and therefore it would be in his best interests to obey.

Barricade offlines his optics and settles in for the long wait.

x-

When he comes to again, the avian is still there. He decides to ignore it.

His chronometer says it's been two days. The diagnostics say he's almost fully repaired; all he needs now is time for his self-repair systems to finish the rest.

His sensors say that besides the avian, he's the only Cybertronian for quite some distance. How easy it would be to destroy the avian and run... though he discards _that_ idea the moment it forms. Soundwave beat him to within an inch of his life because of Frenzy's accidental demise; he has no wish to find out what would happen if he were to purposefully kill the avian.

Barricade sits up - slowly this time, so he doesn't get screeched at again. The avian barely seems to care, merely shifting itself to his shoulder as he rises. He wonders where Soundwave is.

"Not far."

He startles, again, though this time his passenger simply readjusts itself. It wasn't the avian; the voice came from farther away. And yet, with no other energy fields nearby...

Three curiously violet optics study him intently, their owner hanging upside-down in a nearby tree. The tiny frame shimmers and flickers. A cloaking field? "I am Ratbat," the - pseudo-avian? - says in response to the unasked question. "Stealth-without-disguise. That is Buzzsaw. Listening-in-silence."

Telepaths, Barricade realizes. Soundwave's drones are telepaths. He decides the mech must have a damaged CPU, giving an ability that dangerous to _drones_. Then he wonders if Frenzy...

"Yes."

Barricade decides to keep his mind carefully blank for a while.

x-

Soundwave returns and leaves a small tank of low-grade energon - where the Pit could he have gotten that? - and leaves without a word.

x-

Another rotation of the planet passes. Buzzsaw hasn't budged; Ratbat has shifted around the clearing several times, though Barricade never realizes it until the avian speaks up again. It's difficult to keep his mind blank for long stretches of time, he's discovered. Ratbat comments on everything, from sequences of numbers to diagnostic results to fleeting ideas of escape.

He wonders how much of Frenzy's apparent gibberish was actually running commentary.

Buzzsaw's head turns. Barricade automatically follows the movement. Soundwave rolls up to him, whisper-quiet, and transforms. Ratbat immediately glides down - it'd moved again, Barricade notes without surprise - and integrates itself into Soundwave's side. It's seamless; without having watched it, he would never guess there was a drone there.

Soundwave folds back into his vehicle mode. _Come._

Barricade decides he has nothing to lose and transforms. He restrains a jerk of surprise as Buzzsaw again lands on him and folds down into a flat black panel. He suppresses a sigh as he follows Soundwave. The damn bird isn't going to leave him be, is it?

_No,_ Soundwave agrees, _It will not._

x-

The drive has been a silent one.

Barricade still has no idea of where they're going or why. More importantly, he has no idea of why Soundwave didn't kill him. They'd never found the remains of the mech who had killed Rumble. He'd expected the same fate for himself.

At least Soundwave would be efficient about it. For all he knows he's been branded a deserter and Soundwave is merely bringing him to Megatron. That death would last orns, depending on the Lord's mood.

_Frenzy was very fond of you._

Barricade doesn't startle from the telepathic words. Ratbat's constant discourse has made him adapt to it. He wonders if that had been Soundwave's plan all along.

_I do not intend to kill you. Nor do I intend to allow Lord Megatron to do so._

Surprising. If Soundwave is truthful, of course, which Barricade can't imagine is the case. If Megatron asks for his death, then that is what will happen. Soundwave is perfectly loyal; even the lowest ranks know that.

x-

Several days later, Soundwave breaks the silence again. _I have lost all but three of my drones._

Barricade wonders what this has to do with anything. Besides, it's possible to build more. That's all they can build, with the Allspark gone. Soundwave has built a great number of them already - no one knows exactly how many drones he's had over the vorns - and so surely he can do it again.

_No,_ Soundwave says, and the melodic tone of his voice is curiously flat. _I cannot._

They continue in silence for a time.

_Rumble wished for me to terminate the mech who killed it. Frenzy did not. I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement. Frenzy wished for you to be protected from the Lord, and I will do so._

Protection. Barricade reins in his sneer. He would say that he doesn't need it - and since when did Decepticons protect anything? - but against Lord Megatron... perhaps it might be best to keep his opinions to himself. Inasmuch as he can while surrounded by telepaths.

_We protect our own,_ a voice murmurs.

Barricade only realizes much later that it was Buzzsaw.

x-

The more time he spends with Buzzsaw and Ratbat, the more Barricade suspects that they are far from ordinary drones.

The telepathy, for one. It's a useful, powerful, and extremely rare ability. Soundwave has it himself, of course, and it's entirely possible he adapted it to his drones somehow. He's unusually attached to them; perhaps it's because of vorns of effort.

They have distinct personalities. Drones... don't. Buzzsaw is quiet and calculating and can be extremely sadistic at times. Ratbat rarely shuts up; its curiosity is endless and it has a mischievous streak. Both are perfectly loyal to Soundwave, as expected, but not as a drone would be.

Drones are mindlessly loyal; they follow commands because they're programmed to. Ratbat and Buzzsaw do so because they _want_ to. Sometimes Soundwave is forced to convince one of them to obey. Sometimes they never do, and in the end they convince _Soundwave_ to listen to _them_.

Barricade is beginning to understand Soundwave's attachment to them.

x-

Sometimes Barricade wonders what exactly Frenzy's opinion of him was.

He'd thought there was nothing but mutual dislike between them. He hadn't cared for Frenzy beyond keeping it functional and out of trouble. Mainly this was to save his own hide, because hell hath no fury like an enraged Soundwave.

Yet he'd managed to make a positive impression on the spastic nuisance. Enough to make a positive impression on Soundwave. Enough to keep him alive.

He supposes he should be grateful.

x-

By the time Barricade realizes that Soundwave's drones are not drones but _ensparked people_, he has no wish to tell Lord Megatron.

x-

Laserbeak has returned to Soundwave (and Buzzsaw and Ratbat and Barricade) for the next orn.

She and Buzzsaw clean each other, carefully; with beaks and talons, and by blasting their turbines' hot air over each other. Ratbat hangs above them and narrates until they move onto him, and the chatter degrades into a murmur of satisfaction.

Soundwave, too, seems satisfied, though Barricade can't fathom how he knows this. The optic band is as expressionless as ever, and the expression conveyed by his frame is rarely anything but stoic.

Then Barricade realizes a low hum of _pleasure_ is in the air, in his mind - a voiceless telepathic transmission. He glances at Soundwave. Wonders if the mech realizes he's even transmitting it. It feels almost...

_Loving._

A sound of disbelief escapes him. Loving? What kind of slag...

Soundwave's hand lands on his hip. This time it isn't to hold him still. This time, Soundwave's intentions are of a more pleasurable nature. Something adjusts in the mech's expressionless face. Amusement, desire...

What the slag, Barricade thinks. I've got nothing to lose.

x-

How? Barricade wonders. He rarely speaks out loud to any of Soundwave's group. It's easier not to. How did you create them with the Allspark lost? He doesn't expect an answer. Why should he? Soundwave is notoriously private.

_There is a method to split the spark. They are all created from me, and me only. It consumes a great deal of energy. I do not have enough remaining to enspark more._

There is a pause.

_My spark is dim. If they perish, I may well follow._

Barricade wonders why Soundwave is telling him this. They're Decepticons. They don't reveal weaknesses. They exploit them, no matter how friendly they appear. He could very well go to Megatron with this information. The knowledge of how to create new sparks would be extracted from Soundwave, one way or another. He'd be promoted for it. By several ranks. The knowledge would turn the tide of the war.

It would be so easy.

And he wouldn't do it for anything or anyone.

_We protect our own,_ Buzzsaw says softly, and settles on his shoulder.

Yes, Barricade thinks. We do.


	22. Cultural Differences

I do love me some parental!Starscream.

Contains DOTM spoilers.

**Uploaded:** July 13/11  
**Prompt:** Sentinel Prime / Starscream / disagreement

x-  
x-

"What," Sentinel Prime demanded, "Are _those_."

The depth of revulsion in his tone was enough to make Starscream stop in his tracks. He had no idea what had prompted the sudden disgust; some sort of organic species, perhaps? There were certainly enough of them on this slagging planet. A sweep of both optics and sensors revealed nothing out of the ordinary, though, and he was back at square one.

"That you're _holding_."

Starscream looked down. Then, slowly, back up. "They are sparklings, my liege."

The Prime leaned down to study them closely. The elder of the two, Thundercracker, shrank back into Starscream's grasp. The younger, Skywarp, leaned forward eagerly. He began to chirp; Starscream let him. Surely no harm -

"And what, precisely, are... _sparklings_."

Starscream suddenly didn't like where this was going. The mech could be as moody as Megatron - he'd learned that the hard way. The sparklings were far too delicate to take any sort of punishment, and while Megatron at least acknowledged this the Prime would not. At least not yet. It was a prudent precaution, then, to pull Skywarp back against his half-sibling and cover them both with his free hand.

It took him a few moments more to speak. He had to explain things delicately, lest the Prime do something rash. "After the Allspark was... lost," he said, "The Fallen revealed another method of creating sparks. It requires two or more mechs, in close contact; they split off and then combine a piece of their own sparks..." he trailed off.

That expression was _murderous_.

Starscream backed up a step. No, he did _not_ like where this was going. His turbines started and then cut out just as fast. No. Cowardice was not an option, not yet anyway. His sparklings made small, frightened noises, reacting to the tension in his frame. _'No teleporting,'_ he hummed to Skywarp. The sparkling didn't have that kind of energy. It would kill him, whether or not he ended up warping into a solid object.

The Prime, too, seemed to restrain himself; he straightened and turned away. Both of his hands were curled into fists. Starscream studied his back intently even as he ushered the sparklings into his frame. They'd be far safer there, with his armor shielding them. He wasn't done yet.

Surely the Prime could be persuaded to change his views, even if only for the good of Cybertron. It had worked millennia ago for Megatron. Skywarp and Thundercracker were by far the healthiest of the remaining sparklings. They were the offspring of the Fallen and Megatron, respectively. And the offspring of a Prime would no doubt be equal in strength...

"My liege..." Starscream stepped forward. "You are old and wise, and far more powerful than the rabble our forces consist of." Flattery will get you everywhere, it's true. Sentinel looked over his shoulder. Starscream felt that familiar anticipation creep up on him. Maybe this would work. "A sparkling is as powerful as its creators. Perhaps you and I might..."

The blow was fast enough that Starscream couldn't even begin to dodge it. One moment he was standing - the next he was skidding backwards over the loose earth. Skywarp began to trill in fear, high and constant. Dizzily, he was glad that Sentinel had targeted his head rather than his chest.

Then the Prime was leaning over him, as closely as he could without overbalancing himself. Starscream tensed in response and shuffled back. He had no room to maneuver, or to escape into the sky. If Sentinel moved to attack, if he tried to hurt the sparklings... he half-transformed his hand into his missile launcher before he got ahold of himself.

"Those _creatures_ are _abominations_," Sentinel snarled. Some part of him was approving of the sheer amount of _hatred_ in the Prime's voice. Most of him was too busy panicking for the sparklings' sake. The Prime was glaring at his chest. More precisely at Skywarp, who was still wailing.

_'Be quiet!'_ Starscream hissed. He turned himself carefully, just enough to put more armor between them and the Prime. It made his own spark an easier target, but he couldn't care less. No one would harm his sparklings while he still lived. No one.

With a final snort of revulsion, Sentinel straightened. He stalked away and Starscream was on his feet in moments.

"Keep those _things_ out of my sight."

Starscream didn't reply. He had already launched himself into the air. He needed to find somewhere to hide them, and he needed to do it _now_.


End file.
